Phoenix
by Cynamin
Summary: Buffy sees Angel die...then he reappears with amnesia and a pulse.
1. Parts 1 - 5

##  Phoenix

###  By [Cynamin][1]

_Disclaimers: I don't own them. Wish I did have Angel. But I own this plot! (Like would this ever happen on the shows?) Songs used within this story don't belong to me, either._   
_Rating: PG-14 should be safe. Shouldn't get worse._   
_Content: B/A eventually. Character death at the beginning, angst throughout, and violence at the end. Ah, what fun. :)_   
_Timeline: After the Angel episode "Sanctuary" with a different ending. Anything after that in BtVS will be altered. Anything after that in Angel will be ignored. You'll see…_   
_Authors Note: I'm an avid Buffy/Angel 'shipper. So hang on through the angst and woe and you just might find a surprise at the end._   
_Distribution: The BA_Fluff archive, my page, anyone who has other stories by me. Anyone else, please ask._   
_Feedback: Don't be silly! Of course I want feedback, even if it's to tell me I suck…_   


* * *

  
**Part One**

"I'm worried about Buffy," Willow said softly. She was sitting on Giles' couch, her hands on her knees, looking at Giles intently. There was no one else there but the two of them at the moment – a fact that Willow was quite glad for. 

Giles did not look up from what he was doing at first. Instead he continued to go through his books as he spoke. "Buffy is quite able to take care of herself, as she's proven many times," he said calmly. He glanced at Willow then and something in her face must have shown the depth of her concern. "What exactly has you worried?" 

Willow sighed and sank back into the couch. "I don't know…it's hard to explain…" 

Giles sat down across from her. "Try," he said calmly. 

"Well…today…you know we have final exams and all coming up," she began to explain. "Some of the classes…have tests right before the final, too. You know, so you can sort of see how you're doing? Especially the classes that have a test on every unit. Well, I saw the tests Buffy took recently. She _bombed_ them, Giles." 

"Yes, well," Giles said, not meeting her gaze for a moment. "Buffy has never been a great student." 

Willow shook her head. "She was doing better! And she actually liked some of these classes. I asked her about the tests and all and she just didn't seem to care." 

"As troubling as that is, it's hardly cause for concern," Giles said. 

"That's not all, Giles. She's just…weird lately. She smiles a lot, but…it feels false. I can't explain it. It's like nothing matters to her anymore. I don't know if it's effecting her slaying at all, but… It feels like she's not showing any real emotion anymore. Except…" 

"Except what, Willow?" Giles urged her to continue. 

"I've heard her cry in her sleep." 

Giles looked at her sharply then, his attention finally caught. "How long has this been going on?" 

Willow said nothing for a moment as she thought. "A week about, I guess. Ever since…since she came back from L.A." 

"You think something happened when she…saw Angel?" 

"I don't know!" Willow cried. "I mean, if something did…she'd tell us, right?" 

"Yes, yes, of course," Giles agreed readily. It didn't sound very confident, though. 

"But…if something…and she didn't tell us…" Willow stuttered. 

Giles nodded thoughtfully. "I hope your fears are ungrounded," he said. "Still, I could call Angel and ask him if it would put your fears to rest." 

Willow smiled very slightly. "Yeah, I think it would. Could…could you do that?" 

The only reply Giles gave was a slight smile, then he walked over to his phone. Flipping briefly through the small pad of phone numbers sitting next to it he dialed quickly. He only had to wait a moment before the line connected. 

"Hello?" a tired sounding female voice answered half-heartedly. 

"Cordelia?" Giles asked in surprise. It almost hadn't sounded like her at all. It certainly wasn't her usual phone receptionist voice. "It's Giles." 

"Oh," she said with no enthusiasm at all. Not that he was expecting much, but maybe some…life in her voice. "I…uh…wasn't expecting you to call." 

Why in the world _would_ she have been expecting him to call? "Yes, well…" He paused for a second. "Are you all right?" he asked gently. 

There was a lengthy pause on the other end. "I've been better," Cordelia eventually replied. 

"I'm…sorry to hear that." An awkward silence hung over the line. "Listen, I…uh…need to speak to Angel." 

This pause was even longer. For a moment Giles was afraid she wasn't going to answer when she asked in a strange choked voice, "Did you…just say what I think you did?" 

"Cordelia?" Giles said in confusion. 

"Giles…Angel…Angel's dead."   


* * *

  
**Part Two**

When Giles had spoken, Cordelia had felt as if her stomach had just dropped to her shoes. "Buffy didn't tell you?" she asked, knowing she sounded pitiful and not caring in the least. 

He seemed to have trouble finding his voice on the other end. "Buffy knew?" he sputtered. "What happened?" 

Cordelia sighed and sat down hard in the office chair. "Well, you already know that Faith was here. That Angel wanted to help her if he could," she said. A part of her was bitter at how Angel's good nature had backfired on him. All he had wanted to do was save another soul, even if he couldn't save his own. Why did it have to get him killed? "It all happened really fast. One moment he seems to be getting through to Faith, and then Buffy's here all 'kill her now,' some Watcher goons show up with guns and stuff to take her and kill us in the process, and the LAPD is outside. Well, we were okay with the Watchers, and Buffy joined in to help us – it's not like she could do anything else – but the police… Angel got arrested." 

"But how-?" Giles began to interrupt, then stopped. "I'm sorry. Go on." 

"There's this lady, Kate. She's a cop that we'd worked with once or twice," Cordelia explained. Her voice no longer showed any emotion at all. She was just tired. "That is, until she found out the Angel's…was a vampire. We didn't see her after that. But when Angel was arrested…the bitch!" Only that word held emotion, and it was hatred, pure and simple. "She knew exactly what she was doing. She put Angel in a cell with a window…so that he could see the sunrise." 

"Good lord," Giles muttered. 

Cordelia barely heard him. "We tried to get him out. We pleaded, we begged, we charmed, we even tried to fight to get him out. Buffy ended up being carried out by a group of burly policemen when she wouldn't let them take Angel. There was nothing we could do, though. And when it was all over…they wouldn't even let us collect his ashes. They say he escaped. But…Kate knows better, and so do Wesley and I." 

There was another long moment of silence over the phone line. "And Buffy knew all of this?" he said. 

Cordelia nodded even though he couldn't see her. "I assume so. The last I saw of her was when the policemen carried her out. Several of them came back with bad bruises – she put up quite a fight. When Wesley and I got back to the office, though, all of her stuff was gone." She paused for a moment. "I'm guessing she didn't tell you any of this." 

"No," Giles confirmed softly. "No she didn't. Actually, I was calling because her behavior of late has us worried. This…explains it, I suppose." There was another long silence. "Is there anything I can do for you? To help?" Giles asked finally. 

"No. Nothing," Cordelia replied wearily. "I…I'd better be going. Office to inventory and pack up and all." 

"I'm sorry," Giles said in closing. 

"Thanks," Cordelia replied, not at all sure whether she meant it or not, and hung up the phone. Her gaze did not move from it for a long time. 

When she looked up finally, Wesley was watching her from the doorway to Angel's office. "Who was that?" he asked softly. It seemed strange to talk too loud in the office. 

"Giles," Cordelia replied briefly. "Buffy hadn't told anyone…" 

Wesley nodded very slightly before sitting next to her. "I found these in Angel's desk," he said calmly, handing her several pieces of paper. 

Cordelia looked at them in silence. The first one was a photograph of Buffy, one the Cordelia had seen before. Under that, however, were sketches; Buffy smiling, Buffy sad, Buffy thoughtful…every picture was of Buffy. "What did he ever see in her?" Cordelia said darkly. "I mean, she came here all 'I'm Buffy, I must be right.' She's stuck up and full of herself and selfish…" 

"And she loves…loved him," Wesley replied. "He loved her. It's that simple." 

"He deserved someone better," Cordelia muttered. 

"Did you have someone in mind?" Wesley said with a hint of amusement. 

Cordelia glared at him. "She didn't even tell her friends that he'd died. Like it meant nothing!" 

"You have no idea what's going on in her head, Cordelia," Wesley said patiently. "It's her life." 

"It's Angel's death," Cordelia bit back. Wesley started at her tone, and she sank into her chair. "I'm sorry. What are we going to do? All his things, this place…god, our jobs." 

"We'll think of something," was Wesley's gentle reply. "I'm surprised he never said anything about what he wanted done…in case. I've been going through his office a bit. Some of his things – weapons, books, artwork and the like – are priceless." 

"Priceless?" Cordelia said vaguely, then felt slightly guilty for thinking about money. Only slightly, though. She did, after all, have her own welfare to think of. What with her suddenly unemployed status and all. 

Suddenly the front door slammed open and a young man in a hooded sweat shirt came bolting into the office. They couldn't see his face, but he was breathing hard as if from a long run. Cordelia stood, rolling her eyes slightly, prepared to dismiss him. "Hey…" 

The kid looked up at her and took off his hood, revealing strange, greenish tinted skin of a scaly texture. No matter how many demons she saw, it still surprised Cordelia, and her words froze in her throat. Plus, he looked a little familiar. Good demon, right? One Angel had helped, before… 

"Oh good, you're here," the demon kid said, still breathing hard but recovered just enough to speak. 

Wesley found his voice again before Cordelia. "If you're looking for Angel…" he began. 

The kid shook his head. "I'm…looking for you. You're Angel's friends, right?" 

"Well, we were," Cordelia said softly. 

The boy looked at her curiously, then seemed to shake her statement off. "It's about Angel…" 

"Angel's dead," Cordelia said bluntly, finding her voice again at the same time as Wesley said, "What about Angel?" 

The kid looked back and forth between them sharply. "He's not dead," he said, sounding slightly confused. "I was sent… He's…with my people. But he's in bad shape. It's weird. You need to come quickly." 

Cordelia and Wesley looked at each other in confusion. The words not dead seemed to hang in the air between them. How…? 

"Quickly!" the boy said again, and ran from the office. 

There was nothing they could do but follow.   


* * *

  
**Part Three**

The kid – Viho by name – had been so caught up in his task of retrieving Cordelia and Wesley that he'd been about to run all the way home. Wesley started up Angel's car, though, and got the kid before we went very far. With Viho sitting in the front passenger seat, Wesley driving, and Cordelia sitting pensively in the back, they got to the demons' home in record time. And without breaking any traffic laws, yet. Or, at least, not getting caught for any. 

It wasn't exactly a bad part of town that Viho's extended family was living in, but it wasn't a good part of town, either. The older apartment building was tired looking, rust stains marking the exterior walls and the once colorful outside faded and dull. There were drying clothes hanging out of upstairs windows. It was quiet, though, for an apparently full apartment building in the daytime. Cordelia could only guess that whoever these demons were, they weren't into drawing attention. 

Wesley pulled the black convertible up front. It had barely stopped when Viho jumped out, followed shortly by Cordelia. She followed him into the building, and the apparent peace was shattered. The vestibule was quiet, but occupied. Cordelia fought very hard not to stare at so many demon faces in once place. Strange colors, horns, scales, a bit of slime…she pitied the landlord of this place. She also definitely felt like the alien in here. 

The boy turned around once they were inside only to wait for Wesley to catch up with them, then turned around saying, "He's upstairs. Third floor. Come on!" Then he rushed ahead of them again. 

Cordelia ran as well as she could up the stairs behind the young demon, but he had a couple of advantages on her – a demon's strength, a child's energy, and sensible shoes – and quickly widened the gap between them. She didn't have any trouble following him, though, for once he reached the third floor he began calling out ahead of them. "Mom! Dad!" So Cordelia simply had to follow the sound of his voice to find his family…and, if what he'd said was true, Angel as well. 

Both her and Wesley were out of breath by the time they reached the door in question, where Viho practically bounced in the hallway. He was speaking quickly to a woman – his mother, presumably – standing just inside the door. Neither of them could hear what the boy said, but they could see the woman's obvious relief. 

"Thank goodness," the demoness said when they reached the doorway as well. "I've been at my wit's end." She ushered them both in the door and closed it firmly behind them. 

Cordelia vaguely heard Wesley exchange pleasantries and introductions with the woman, but her attention was quickly elsewhere. Her attention had been caught by a scene barely glimpsed in the bedroom. She made her way almost in slow motion to the doorway, for once speechless. 

A younger human (or human looking, at least) woman knelt beside the bed. On the floor beside her was a bag, plus rolls of bandages and a smile pile of bloody gauze. What really caught Cordelia's eye, though, was on the bed. Curled up on his side, heavily bandaged with his back to the door, familiar tattoo just showing over the layers of tape, was Angel. 

Cordelia moved into the room without even being aware she was doing so, and the young woman turned at her approach. "Are you a friend?" she asked, her voice thick with an unfamiliar accent. 

"Yes," Cordelia replied, in a detached way amazed at how calm her voice was. "I'm a friend. I work for him." 

The woman nodded, and looked relieved. "I've done what I can for him, but his injuries are worse than I've dealt with before," she said. At Cordelia's odd look she continued. "I work as a medic for this building. The people who live hear have a tendency to get into some bad scrapes…but this is bad. He should be in a hospital. Plus…I've never treated a human before." 

Cordelia shook her head, not really paying attention. Just an hour ago she'd been mourning Angel's death. Now… "He can't go to the hospital," she said. "And he's not human. He's a vampire." 

It was the medic's turn to look shocked. "If he was a vampire, he wouldn't need my treatment," she explained. 

This was all too unreal. Cordelia felt like…she'd just stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone. Or was having a very strange dream. Either way, this whole situation could not be real. Angel was dead; he'd burned to death in a jail cell. He wasn't here in this house of horrors, injured and alive. That being alive in the breathing sense just proved matters. Almost without thinking Cordelia put out her hand to touch Angel lightly on his unbandaged shoulder. Even unconscious he flinched from her touch. Still, she felt his unusual warmth before he pulled away and curled up even tighter. He looked very small and pathetic like that for such a large man. 

"He was found like this last night," Viho's mother was explaining to Wesley in the bedroom doorway. "A man living nearby says he was dumped from a nice, black car and left for dead." She saw that Cordelia was listening too and came the rest of the way into the room to speak to both of them. "I don't know if you remember my husband. He can pass for human, and someone was going to reveal his nature to his employer. Get him fired if he didn't…" Wesley nodded briefly that he remembered. "Angel helped him. We couldn't pay you much, or not as much as keeping that job is worth to this family. We just wanted to return the favor. I'm afraid we couldn't do much for him, though." 

"What's his condition?" Wesley asked both the woman and the medic. 

It was the woman who answered first. "He's been in and out ever since we picked him up off the street. He hasn't said anything coherent the couple of times he's been awake." 

"Except to make things difficult for me," the medic muttered. 

"That's Angel for you," Cordelia said with a hint of humor. It was all pointless if you couldn't keep your sense of humor, right? 

The medic continued with her more professional opinion of his condition. "Mostly he's got some bad bumps and bruises, some scrapes, rope burns around his wrists probably from being restrained…. He may have a cracked rib or two, but I can't tell. He was beaten pretty thoroughly. What worries me, though, is the large, ritualistic cut on his chest." 

"Ritualistic?" Wesley asked urgently. 

"Someone carved what looks like a bird into his chest. He'd lost a good deal of blood from that by the time I saw him. I'm worried about infection, but if he manages to avoid that…. It's definitely going to scar." 

"I see," Wesley said. He looked at both of the women. "Thank you both very much for your care. We are willing to pay you whatever amount of money…" 

"No need," the demoness said hastily. "Consider this a balancing of accounts." 

Wesley nodded. "Then I suppose we will take him off your hands come nightfall." 

"Wesley, wait," Cordelia said urgently. "You haven't heard the rest of the news about his condition." 

"I'm sorry?" 

"The 'he's breathing and has a heartbeat' part." 

Wesley got this very odd look on his face like he'd chocked on something. To his credit, he recovered well. "Then…I suppose we'll be taking him with us as soon as it's okay to move him." 

The medic nodded. "Whenever he wakes up, I suppose. You know him. You can probably care for him better than I can." 

Cordelia wasn't so sure of that, but she sat next to Angel on the bed anyway. She laid a hand on his shoulder again. This time she did not pull away when he flinched, but instead held firm and said sternly, "Angel!" 

He stirred slowly, finally rolling onto his back and blinking his eyes open. He shuddered under her touch, his eyes haunted. They held fear and pain, but no recognition. 

"Time to get up," she said softly, letting him go. "Wesley and I are taking you home." 

"Home?" Angel asked in a voice that was barely a whisper. 

Cordelia was silent for a moment, looking into his uncomprehending eyes. _What did they do to you? And who were they?_ She sighed. "Yeah, Angel. Home."   


* * *

  
**Part Four**

Giles sat in his living room, pensively sipping on a mug of tea. It had grown cold, but he didn't notice. He was engrossed in the texts in front of him; old, smelly tales of demons and warriors. Tales of the past, it seemed, were often clues to the future. Clues to the future were exactly what Giles needed most at the moment. 

The latest crisis had been averted, Adam defeated at last and the Initiative was in ruins. Perhaps they would be lucky and this would be a quiet summer, but somehow Giles doubted it. Buffy was in no form to deal with even a minor crisis at the moment. Oh, she might seem alright to one who didn't know her that well, and she had made it fine through the battle with Adam, but there was something very wrong. Giles feared what would happen if she went up against something unexpected in her current state. 

Perhaps it was Buffy's barely passed studies that worried her mother, but Giles was more worried about the strange apathy that had overcome her. Her friendships had already been suffering – now it was as if there was a great chasm across which Buffy could not be reached. All of her friends had noticed the increased distance. Her relationship with Riley had crumbled as a result. He had left her at the beginning of the summer saying that she had stopped caring. 

Her response? She hadn't seemed to care. 

The most telling sign, though, and the moment when Giles had become truly frightened for her, was when he and Willow had confronted her about Angel's death. No matter how things had stood between them recently, Angel had been Buffy's first love. Giles still remembered his first love, and though their relationship had only been a fleeting thing, he knew he would she a few tears if he ever learned of her death. The relationship between Buffy and Angel had been anything but fleeting; two years, even off and on, is a long time in any relationship. At the very least, he expected her to mourn Angel's loss. 

He didn't expect the empty gaze he'd seen when he and Willow had faced her. He didn't expect the careless shrug. "He was already dead and gone," she said simply. "Now that's just _more_ true." Then she had changed the subject. 

At the time, he didn't have the luxury to press the issue. Demons were over-running the town and Adam – part human, part demon, part machine, all monster – had them at a horrible disadvantage. He had to be dealt with before Giles could really take the time to deal with Buffy's changed demeanor. 

Now that battle was over, though. In contrast things in Sunnydale were almost eerily calm. One could almost believe it was a normal town. It wasn't, though. Even at its quietest there were plenty of ways for a careless Slayer to find her death. 

So Giles sought comfort in the tomes of prophecy and demon lore. If he could not figure out what was wrong with Buffy, if he could not find a way to help the girl who was the closest he'd ever have to a daughter, then at least he could help her be prepared. He could try and find out what was coming before it arrived. 

He'd been at this for a while before he leaned back wearily in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wasn't having any luck. There were no regularly scheduled rituals or even possible demonic rituals coming that he could find. "Damn it!" he muttered, banging his fist on the table in frustration. 

The slight vibration caused the precariously stacked books and papers to slide, tumbling right off the table. Letting out a weary sigh, Giles crawled on his hands and knees to collect them. This certainly wasn't helping… 

One of the books had fallen open, and as he reached it a passage on its worn pages caught his eye. It had only taken one word for Giles to notice it: "angel." The ex-Watcher, caught in the prophecies – for that's what they were - sat back on his heels to read. 

_"When a dark angel falls in the light, the Chosen One sheds no tears but dies inside._   
_Hidden away, the Phoenix rises from the ashes and into the light once again._   
_The veil of death is before his eyes; the Phoenix will not fight._   
_The Chosen One is come to the Phoenix; the light of her heart banishes the shadows of death from his._   
_Love clears the paths of time."_

There was a long passage, too faded for him to read, and then: _"The Phoenix and the Guardian are one."_

Giles stared at it for a while…he knew it was important. It seemed to scream at him, but he did not quite understand. "The Chosen One sheds no tears…" it whispered. Words jumped out at him, begging to be heard. "Dark angel" and "rises from the ashes." 

"The Chosen One" was always – or almost always – the Slayer. Of that much he was certain. The other, the Phoenix, he'd never heard found any reference to before but was apparently male. Not a Slayer then; someone else. 

…rises from the ashes… 

Ashes. 

A vampire's ashes….? 

A dark angel falls in the light… 

_This can not be a coincidence. There's no coincidence on the Hellmouth._

Acting on a hunch, Giles picked up the phone and dialed. A tired, familiar female voice answered. "Angel Investigations. We…" 

"Cordelia, it's Giles," he interrupted. 

A loud sigh on the other end. "Thank god you called! You'll never believe what happened. Or…maybe you will, but…. Things are really weird here…" 

"It's Angel, isn't it?" Giles said quickly, stopping her rambling. "He's alive…?" 

Cordelia gasped in surprise. "What…How did you know?" 

Giles sighed, partially in relief. "I found a prophecy. I wasn't sure, actually, if Angel was the one it was referring to, but… How is he?" 

It was Cordelia's turn to sigh again. "Very, very weird. I'm ready to strangle him. It is _no_ fun dealing with Amnesia Boy." 

"I'm sorry?" 

"He doesn't remember anything or anyone, Giles. He barely even speaks…and it's not like he talked much before, but this is just freaky." 

"'The veil of death,'" Giles muttered. 

"Huh?" 

"It's…part of the prophecy I found," he explained. "I think I may have the solution. But…" 

"Giles!" Cordelia said urgently. "What is it!" 

"Buffy." 

"Confused…" Cordelia replied. 

"It's in the prophecy. 'The Chosen One is come to the Phoenix; the light of her heart banishes the shadows of death from his. Love clears the paths of time,'" Giles quoted. 

"Phoenix?" Cordelia asked. 

"It's a mythological bird," he explained. "It's immortal, of a sort. Every certain amount of time – 500 years, 1000 years, the numbers vary in different accounts – it burns itself to death in its nest. It then rises again as a young phoenix, reborn from its own ashes." 

"So you think that Angel is this 'Phoenix.'" 

"I do." 

"And you think that Buffy can bring his memory back?" 

"I do." 

Cordelia made a sound Giles couldn't quite interpret. Disgust, perhaps, or anger. "And it just went _so_ well the last time Buffy was here," she replied sarcastically. "Her visit is part of what got us into this mess!" 

"I don't know that she… But besides that, if this prophecy is correct, and I'm reading it right, she'll find her way to him anyway," Giles said smoothly. "Aside from that…is there anything I can do to help?" 

"No," Cordelia said, her brief anger gone leaving her sounding tired. "Thanks though. If you're right…get Buffy here. I don't know if I can take much more of this." 

Giles nodded even though she couldn't see him. "I'll do my best," he replied. "Until this all plays itself out…good luck." 

They hung up the phone together, and Giles looked at it for a moment in silence. It was he that was going to need luck. He'd need all the luck he could get to get Buffy to the city she wouldn't even talk about. 

Giles picked up the phone and dialed once again. "Willow? It's Giles… I need your help. Meet me at Buffy's house as soon as you can…. It's about Angel…."   


* * *

  
**Part Five**

Willow shivered slightly as she stood beside Giles outside the Summers' house on Revello Dr. It wasn't that it was cold; the coming summer had already made midday very warm. It was a sense of premonition and nervousness that made Willow rub her arms against a chill. 

This just felt very strange. She had barely spoken to her best friend since classes had ended and they'd both gone to live with their parents for the summer. Now she was standing outside her house, both happy and petrified. She just had this sense of terrible things to come. She couldn't explain it. 

Giles knocked on the door firmly. Willow hung back on the front steps until Giles gestured for her to join him and the door opened. Mrs. Summers peeked around the door for a moment, then flung it wide to greet them. 

In that moment Willow could have sworn she looked tired and much older than usual. It was replaced so quickly with a warm, welcoming smile, though, that Willow wondered if she'd seen that at all. "Come in!" Mrs. Summers said brightly, holding the door open for the both of them. She ushered them into the house, looking pleased. "How are you both? Would you like something to drink?" 

Giles shook his head firmly. "We need to speak to Buffy. Is she here?" 

Joyce's smile slipped. "Has something happened?" she asked, concerned. 

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Giles replied seriously. 

Mrs. Summers nodded, her expression the epitome of 'concerned mother.' "Please, if you have any idea…" she hesitated for a moment, as if she was uncertain whether she should say what she wanted to say next. "Perhaps…she needs a vacation. I've thought about having her spend the summer with her father, but…" 

Willow expected Giles to dismiss the notion out of hand on account of demons and all, but he surprised her. "That may be exactly what she needs: some time away from the Hellmouth. I could mention it to her if you like." 

Mrs. Summers smiled in relief. "She's in her bedroom, cleaning," she said finally. 

Willow smiled gratefully and followed Giles up the stairs towards Buffy's bedroom. The door was open and Buffy was not cleaning. Instead she was sitting on the bed, staring out the window. From the tension in her posture Willow was glad she couldn't see Buffy's face. 

Giles knocked on the doorframe to get her attention. She turned to see them and in the moment before she plastered on a false smile Willow caught a glimpse of a soul-deep despair in her eyes. Then her gaze went blank and she gave them a smile that never reached her eyes. 

"Hey," she said with force gaiety. She jumped to her feet. "What's up? Demon? Vampire? New baddie bent on taking over the world?" 

Both Willow and Giles hesitated. Willow shifted on her feet and Giles took off his glasses in a nervous gesture. "None of the above…or, well…vampire, I guess…" Giles began. 

"What is it, Giles?" Buffy said, seeming amused by his discomfiture. 

"We need to talk with you about Angel," Giles said abruptly. 

Buffy turned away from them, suddenly busying herself in the task of organizing her desktop. "What about Angel? He's dead. End of story." 

That wasn't always the end of story in Sunnydale, though. "This is important, Buffy. You must tell us what happened." 

"What's to tell?" Buffy said, still not looking at them. "Vampire meets sunlight, vampire is dust. End of tale." She was nearly pacing as she rearranged her things. It was making Willow dizzy. 

"Buffy," Willow started to say softly," but she wasn't heard. Giles got right in the Slayer's face and said in his sternest authority voice, "Sit down." 

Buffy sat on the bed like her strings had been cut. She stared at them, her eyes wide and panicked. She looked like a trapped animal. Giles softened and knelt in front of her sympathetically. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I know you don't want to talk about what happened. But we need to know, and I think you need to face it. Put the past where it belongs – behind us – so we can move forward." 

"The past where it belongs?" Buffy asked faintly, devoid of emotion. 

Giles flinched slightly. "Yes, well… Perhaps you should start from the beginning. What happened when you first went to see Angel?" 

"He…he…" She seemed flustered. Real emotion seemed buried just beneath the surface. "I can't!" she suddenly cried out. She shook slightly. 

"You have to," Giles urged. 

Willow saw in Buffy's eyes that she was shutting down again, building walls between herself and her emotions. Willow sat beside her friend and clasped her hand. "Buffy," she said softly, "when you came back from L.A. you had a bruised lip. Did the police do that? Or Faith?" 

Buffy shook her head. "Angel," she said flatly. 

"Angel hit you?!" Willow asked in surprise. 

"I hit him first," Buffy said so quietly she could barely be heard. 

Willow looked at her in shock. "What…what…?" 

Buffy spoke again, very quiet and her voice emotionless. "I got to Angel's apartment alright. I went downstairs to see him. He was with Faith – she was crying, her hands covered with blood, and he was holding her." 

Willow tried to stifle a gasp. Buffy had always had doubts when it came to Angel and Faith together. Seeing him holding Faith right after everything she'd done to Buffy must have been shattering. Willow squeezed Buffy's hand slightly. 

She didn't even acknowledge it, but continued describing events weeks past coldly. "I was angry," she said. "I yelled. He told Faith to go upstairs. I tried to go after her, but he stopped me. I hit him. He hit me back." 

She fell silent for a moment. "What happened then?" Giles prodded gently. 

Buffy stared out the window as she continued to speak. "We yelled at each other for a while. I couldn't believe he actually hit me. Then…" She looked confused. "It all happened so fast after that!" 

"What did?" 

"The fighting. Those Watcher goons came out of nowhere to kill Faith this time. They didn't care who got in the way – they were shooting up the whole place. Faith and I ended up on the roof with a helicopter shooting at us." 

Her face softened slightly as she continued. "Angel jumped onto the helicopter and forced it to land. The police were waiting for him on the ground. He was arrested – aiding a felon. Faith disappeared somewhere in the shuffle. 

"Cordelia, Wesley, and I went to the police station, too." Buffy's formerly empty eyes suddenly hinted at a buried anger. "One of the cops knew what Angel was. She said she was going to put him in a cell where he could see the sunrise." Her gaze darkened. "I was shocked that she could so coldly murder him. She's supposed to be a cop – protect people, not kill them. When I started to argue with her Angel said I was nothing and let her lead him away. 

"I couldn't let her," Buffy said, her voice clearer now with a hint of sadness sneaking in. "So I fought. I tried to tear my way through the station to get to him. The whole time, though, he just _let_ them take him. I couldn't get to him without killing someone, and a group of the police carried me out of the station." 

A single tear rolled down her cheek unnoticed. "I tried to find another way in. When I couldn't, I decided to climb the eastern side of the building, find his cell, and break the bars if necessary to free him. It took all of my strength to reach him, and by the time I did it was almost sunrise. 

"I found Angel sitting on the bed in his cell, staring out the window. I couldn't tear out the bars and stay on the wall; I tried but I couldn't. I begged Angel to get up, to help me, to break free. He simply looked at me, though. His eyes were so sad and he just said 'I'm sorry.' That's it." Her own posture – sitting on her bed, staring out the window, her eyes clouded with despair – was an eerie reflection of the tale she was telling. Her breath hitched in a half sob. "He was still sitting there when the sun rose just minutes later." She let out another sob, and a second tear joined the first. "He just let the sun come," she whispered, and then seemed to collapse in on herself, finally truly crying. 

Willow held her best friend as he shook with sobs. How horrible! None of them had realized that Buffy had seen Angel die. Willow had seen a vampire die by sunlight before; it was a horrible, violent death. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Buffy to see Angel die like that. 

"Shhh," she whispered, rubbing Buffy's back. "It'll be okay." 

Buffy blinked at her through her tears. "The last conversation I had with him," she barely managed to get out between sobs, "I yelled at him. I hit him. I didn't listen to him. And then he says 'I'm sorry.' Why? Why should he be sorry?" 

Willow didn't answer, for she knew that Buffy knew the answer as well as she did. Angel always blamed himself, no matter how little control he had over events. That was something they'd always known about him. 

He wasn't too unlike Buffy in that respect. 

After a while the sobs quieted but the tears still flowed. Bleary eyed, Buffy said, "Do you think if we hadn't fought he would have tried to stay alive?" 

Willow shook her head in dismay. "You can't ask yourself things like that," she said softly, "there's no way to know." 

"You mustn't blame yourself, Buffy," Giles added. 

"I know," Buffy replied in a chocked whisper. "I just can't help it." The Slayer looked absolutely pathetic, her strength gone once her tears had run dry. Willow knew that no amount of comforting _she_ could do would make her friend strong again. 

Giles seemed to see that as well. "I don't think you should be slaying for a while," he said slowly. 

Buffy looked up at him in surprise. "Why? I can take care of myself." 

"I'm not so sure about that, Buffy," he said. Before Buffy could get offended, Giles continued. "Your mother suggested that you take a vacation." 

Buffy let out a harsh laugh. "Vacation? Slayers don't take vacations." 

"I won't tell anyone if you don't," Giles said with a slight smile. 

Buffy couldn't help but smile ever so slightly in response. She sat up a little straighter and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. "So, um, vacation?" 

"Your mother suggested that you spend the summer with your father." 

The little bit of humor disappeared from her face. "My father?" she said in a strangled voice. "In L.A?" 

Willow suddenly understood why Giles was so quick to agree that Buffy should leave town. Right now, she was needed in L.A. She just didn't know it yet. 

"Yes," Giles said in response to Buffy's question. "I know it's hard…" 

"Sorry, Giles, but you couldn't possible know," Buffy retorted. 

"Still, it'll be best for everyone if you visit your father, at least for a little while. It will give you some time to…recover." 

For a moment Buffy said nothing, just sat on her bed staring out the window once again. "It has been a long time since I spent time with Dad," she conceded. 

That settled it, and fifteen minutes later Giles and Willow were standing on the front steps again. Buffy had already begun packing. Her eyes were pained, but at least they held emotion now. Already she seemed to have found a bit of her old self. 

Still, Willow was confused and doubtful. Something very important had been left out of their conversation. She looked at Giles oddly. "Why didn't you tell her that Angel's alive?" 

For a couple of moments Giles said nothing as they walked down the street. Willow stared at him in shock, wondering if he was going to answer at all. He didn't disappoint her. "She's much too confused at the moment, Willow. Her emotions are a complete mess. Who knows what telling her that on top of everything else might do?" 

"It might make her happy again. She'd go to him…" 

Giles shook his head. "Or it might make her avoid him all together. You saw how guilty she's feeling right now. 

"But…if she doesn't know…how can she help him?" 

Giles smiled. "That is where destiny takes a hand." 

They walked a little while more without saying anything. Finally Willow could stand it no longer. "Giles?" 

"Yes?" 

"How could Angel be alive?" she asked. "Buffy saw him turn to dust." 

"I don't know. I just don't know." 

_Continues...._

   [1]: mailto:cynamin@hotmail.com



	2. Parts 6 - 10

##  Phoenix

###  By [Cynamin][1]

_Disclaimers: I don't own them. Wish I did have Angel. But I own this plot! (Like would this ever happen on the shows?) Songs used within this story don't belong to me, either._   


* * *

  
**Part Six**

Buffy was at a threshold. It was both mental and literal and it scared her to death. There was a door in front of her, a very real door, and behind it was pain and sadness. Behind it was a past she had yet to deal with. 

She reached towards the door handle, then stopped herself, trembling slightly. Could she do this? She remembered Giles' words about putting her past behind her, and knew that she had to. Could she, though? Was she ready? 

Putting the past behind her was a frightening concept. It meant going through a lot of pain that she'd buried inside herself. It also meant fully ending one chapter of her life. It meant saying goodbye. 

Buffy hated the word "goodbye" now. She supposed that was in part because he had never said it to her, and she had never said it back. In some ways, that had left a little bit of hope, if not that they might someday be together, but that they would at least see each other again. Now, that wasn't going to happen. Buffy didn't know that she was ready to say goodbye to Angel. 

Behind this door was an ending…. Behind this door was a first step to a new beginning. 

Behind this door were friends. 

Well, sort of…. 

Buffy opened the door. 

The interior of Angel Investigations was dark as usual, the blinds pulled completely shut. It was dead silent inside, and Buffy shivered. She was not surprised to find it like this. What else could she have expected? She was surprised, though, to find the door open. It was as if any minute business would continue here as usual. 

The elevator suddenly started and Buffy jumped. For a second she wondered if she was really hearing it at all, or if it was merely a ghost of her memory. If she was just imagining it, then Angel would step from the elevator and look at her in surprise, then smile slightly at her like he used to. If she imagined hard enough she could even believe that she felt him nearby, just like she always used to. 

It was amazing what the imagination could do. 

The door to the elevator opened with a clatter, and Buffy was somewhat surprised to see Cordelia emerge. She gave a bright and oddly relieved smile upon seeing Buffy. 

"Thank God you're here!" Cordelia said, and Buffy got the impression that she could have received a hug as well. It baffled her, to say the least. She'd hardly expected to be welcome here, let alone _this_ welcome. 

"Cordelia?" she asked. "What…?" 

"What took you so long!?" Cordelia demanded suddenly. 

"So long? I…" 

"I mean, I spoke to Giles almost a week ago! I thought you'd come running right down here and…" 

"What are you talking about?!" Buffy yelled, seeing Cordelia wasn't going to let her get a word in. 

Cordelia's torrent of words stopped abruptly and her smile changed into a scowl. "Giles didn't tell you?" she asked finally. 

"Tell me what?!" Buffy demanded in frustration. 

Cordelia did not answer her. Instead she asked a question of her own. "Why are you here then?" 

Buffy sighed. "I'm trying to… I don't know, exactly. Maybe I just wanted…to say goodbye?" Her heart was in her throat at the thought. 

Cordelia looked at her warily. "That's it? You think you can do that? Because I'm not going to let you forget the mess you caused the last time you were here." 

Buffy cringed at her words. "I won't forget," she whispered. As if she could… 

Cordelia looked at her sympathetically for a moment, then her expression went stern once again. "Good," she said strongly. 

Buffy did not move from where she stood, and neither did Cordelia. They just stared each other down for a moment. Each refused to be intimidated by the other. 

Finally Cordelia sighed. "You know if we didn't need you I'd be kicking you out right now." 

"I know," Buffy said, not moving. 

Neither said anything for another moment. Buffy waited impatiently, but Cordelia apparently wasn't going to give her what she wanted. "What do you need me for?" she prompted. 

Cordelia looked at her a second longer. "Giles didn't tell you anything?" 

Buffy shrugged. "Aside from 'go on vacation, Buffy, and have a nice trip'? No, not a thing." 

Still Cordelia hesitated for a moment. 

"Cordelia, please!" 

"I'm thinking!" the ex-cheerleader snapped. She shook her head then. "It's easier if I show you," she said. 

"Then show me," Buffy said, trying her hardest to be patient. 

Cordelia said nothing more for the moment and walked back towards the elevator. After a moment Buffy followed her. Cordelia waited until Buffy was in the elevator with her, then closed the gate and made the elevator descend. 

Buffy was shaking, her throat tight with potential tears, as they descended into Angel's apartment. She wondered if it still looked like she remembered, or if Cordelia and Wesley had started to pack up Angel's things. She wasn't sure which concept frightened her more. 

The first thing Buffy was aware of downstairs was Wesley's voice. Actually, she could hear him over the machinery of the elevator before it came to a complete stop. 

"Hold still," he was saying in his stuffy, British voice. He sounded even more annoyed than usual. "I'll never get done here if you don't _hold still_!" 

The elevator came to sudden rest, and Cordelia pulled back the door. She shot Buffy a look that said 'do you see what I have to put up with?' and gestured Buffy into the apartment. 

The apartment had not changed a bit, and Buffy felt her stomach tie itself into knots. Something was strange here…she felt something else… 

"You're already healing too slowly!" Wesley's voice came from out of sight. "If you don't let me put these bandages on… Come back here!" 

Buffy did not have to wait much longer to find out who the ex-Watcher was yelling at. A moment later the reluctant patient emerged from Angel's bedroom, and Buffy gasped. He was shirtless, his chest partially bandaged. He couldn't be here, this achingly familiar face…one she knew and loved. She'd spent the last 2 weeks mourning him, and yet… 

"Buffy?" he asked in that half question she knew so well, his voice barely above a whisper. 

She could not help but respond in kind. "Angel?" 

His response surprised her, though. Instead of smiling, or extending words of greeting, he simply nodded as if that confirmed something and stood there, looking at her. 

"What?" Buffy asked, far too confused to ask the full question that plagued her. 'What the hell's going on here?' might have been closer. 

Cordelia put a hand on her shoulder, and Buffy looked at her to find her smiling slightly. "It's all right," Cordelia whispered. "Actually, that's far more recognition than he's shown anyone else. He knows your name." She shrugged. 

"I… I don't understand," Buffy said finally, all the while aware that Angel was still watching her. 

Cordelia sighed. "Angel," she said firmly, "go back and let Wesley finish bandaging your wounds, okay?" She looked back at Buffy. "It's like talking to a three year old sometimes," she muttered. Still, Angel hadn't moved. "Go on!" 

"But…" Angel began, his eyes locked with Buffy's. 

"I'll come," Buffy said. He did not smile, but headed back to his room, expecting her to follow. She looked back at Cordelia for a second before she did so. "Let me guess," she said briefly. "Some form of amnesia?" Either that or brain damage, and she really didn't want to think about that. 

Cordelia nodded. "He doesn't remember…well, anything," she said. "Contrary to this little display, he normally acts his physical age at least. So Wesley doesn't think he's…impaired or anything." 

Buffy nodded, taking comfort in that small fact. "You can tell me the rest in a minute," she said. She did not wait for a response, but walked into Angel's room, following him as she had promised. 

He was sitting on the bed when she came in. Wesley was sitting in the chair next to him, apparently trying to reapply the bandage on his chest with little success. It got messed up again as Angel turned at her entrance, his gaze immediately catching her own. Wesley gave a little sigh of defeat looking at the ruined tape and sat back in his chair. 

Buffy broke eye contact with Angel for a moment to look at Wesley. "I'll take care of it," she said. Wesley nodded and relinquished the chair with some relief and left the two of them alone in the room. 

Once he was gone Buffy walked around the bed to pick up the first aid kit he'd been using. Instead of taking a seat in the chair, though, she sat beside him on the bed. For a moment she did nothing and said nothing, uncertain of what her welcome would be. She didn't know how to deal with him anymore, and that scared her. Things had been so terrible the last time they had spoken. And then…his death… Where did she even begin to deal with this? 

Maybe she should begin by making this right. 

Buffy licked her lips nervously. "Let me," she whispered, reaching with hesitant fingers for the partially secure gauze on his chest. 

He did not flinch away like she expected him to, but rather leaned forward to help her. The movement caused Buffy's hand to come into full contact with the skin of Angel's chest, and she gasped once again. His skin was warm. Her hand pressed there like that, and she could not help but feel the faint movement of his heartbeat. She watched her hand move with each of his breaths in fascination. 

"Buffy?" he asked suddenly, drawing her attention with a concerned whisper. She looked up into his familiar gaze. "Are you alright?" 

Buffy shook herself out of her shock as best she could. Cordelia had said he didn't remember anything. Apparently he did not understand, then, what had startled her so. "I'm alright," she said quickly and reached for the roll of medical tape. She tried to ignore the fact that her hand was on his naked skin, someplace it hadn't been in a long time. Instead she busied herself with getting the bandage positioned correctly. She looked at what she was covering up and flinched slightly. Someone had cut into his chest the outline of a bird, its wings outspread. The shallower cuts had already healed to angry red scars. Scabs remained in some of the deeper places, and Buffy's chest hurt in sympathy. "What happened?" she whispered, partially to herself. "Who did this to you?" 

"Don't remember," Angel said, then yawned. 

Buffy tried to give him a sympathetic smile, but was sure she failed. "I'm sorry," she said. Gently she replaced the last of the bandages in silence. 

When she was done he continued to stare at her for a long moment. She wondered what it was he was looking for. Then he yawned again. 

"Rest," Buffy said simply, placing a hand on his. 

He looked at her in concern. "And you?" he asked, grasping her hand. 

"I need to talk to Wesley and Cordelia," she explained. "I won't be far. And I promise I'll come back." 

Angel nodded and released her. 

Buffy did not release the breath she'd been unaware she was holding until she had left the room. She sighed wearily and flopped down on the couch next to Cordelia. Those few minutes had been far more tiring than she thought. "He's alive," Buffy whispered after a moment. 

Cordelia and Wesley nodded. 

"No," Buffy said in a strong, clear voice. "I mean, he's _alive_!" 

Again the two of them nodded. 

"How?" Buffy asked in a strangled voice. Her head was spinning; she couldn't think of any sort of explanation for any of this. 

Wesley sighed. "We don't know," he said. "Three days after he …died… a group of good demons picked him up off the street like this." 

"Not exactly like this," Cordelia clarified. "For the first day he was incoherent…and spent most of the time unconscious. A couple of days after that he didn't say a word. Now…" 

"He's been…a bit more himself every day," Wesley explained. "He still has no memories, though. From what Cordelia said, you are the first person he has recognized." 

That reassured Buffy, but only slightly. Maybe, even after everything she had done to him, they still had some sort of connection. "You said he doesn't remember anything?" Buffy asked again. At Cordelia's nod she added, "About vampires or anything?" 

"That's part of what worries me," Wesley said. "Since he is alive…human…even his own physical self can't help trigger any memories. He…_feels_ different, or so I would imagine." 

"So you have no clue how to get his memories back?" 

Neither Cordelia nor Wesley responded for a moment. 

"Guys?" 

It was Wesley who spoke once again. "Giles found a prophecy. The key to Angel's memories…" 

"Yes?" 

"It's you, Buffy." 

Buffy swallowed hard. She was the key to his memories? She didn't know…she didn't understand… "I see," she said softly. She stood. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she began to walk towards the stairs. 

"That's it!?" Cordelia yelled, springing up from the couch and grabbing her arm. "You're just going to walk away? I was right; you never did care about him like he cared for you." 

"I am _not_ walking away," Buffy said angrily, tearing her arm from Cordelia's grasp. "And don't you dare say I never cared for him! I did! I loved him!" 

Cordelia looked at her, her eyes filled with barely suppressed fury. "And now?" 

"I don't know," Buffy said honestly. "It's … been a year, Cordelia. And I tried to get over him…like he wanted me to. I had a boyfriend…like he wanted me to. But don't think I don't still care about him, because I do. And I always will." 

"The why are you leaving?" 

"Because my dad is expecting me for dinner," Buffy began to explain. "Because I need some fresh air. Because this is all too overwhelming for me to take in at the moment. But don't doubt that I'll be back. I _will_ be back." 

"Why should I trust you?" Cordelia asked coldly. 

Buffy did not look at her, but rather looked past her at the door to Angel's room. "Because I promised him," was all she said.   


* * *

  
**Part Seven**

Buffy sat in the guestroom of her father's house, pensive. She'd gone to the room after dinner, turned on her portable CD player, and stared at the wall trying to calm her raging thoughts. Or at least, if she couldn't do that, distract herself from the subject of Angel. 

Thus far, she wasn't having much luck. 

_The winter is past and the summer's come at last,_   
_and the small birds are singing in the trees;_   
_Their little hearts are glad, but mine is very sad,_   
_Since my true love is far away from me._

It may have had something to do with her CD choice. She didn't even know why she'd bought this one; anything remotely Celtic, Irish, or old fashioned inevitably reminded her of Angel. The gentle, sad tune kept forcing her mind back to her brooding ex-boyfriend. Still, she tried to fight it. 

_The rose upon the briar, like the water running clear,_   
_Gives joy to the linnet and the bee;_   
_Their little hearts are blessed, but mine is not at rest,_   
_Since my true love is far away from me.___

_For straight I will repair to the Curragh of Kildare,_   
_It's there I'll find tidings of my dear._

Maybe it was the words that trapped her thoughts on him. Granted, she had no clue what a 'Curragh' was, but she'd never felt farther away from Angel. It wasn't distance that separated her and Angel this time. It wasn't even death. Instead it was the passage of time and the absence of memory. She could stand in the same room as him and still be far away. 

She hated it. She hated their distance so much it surprised her. 

_A livery I'll wear,_   
_And I'll comb back my hair_   
_And in velvet of green I will appear;___

_For straight I will repair to the Curragh of Kildare,_   
_It's there I'll find tidings of my dear.___

_You that are in love,_   
_and cannot it remove,_   
_I pity the pains that you endure;_   
_For experience lets me know that your hearts are full of woe,_   
_A woe that no mortal can cure._

So much pain here. The lack of emotion she'd forced on herself after Angel's death had at least been calmer than this inner turmoil. Once Giles and Willow had made her face her emotions again she had to look at why Angel's death had been such a blow. 

She still loved him. In his own words, she tried not to but couldn't stop. 

What should she do now that he had returned? What could she do? 

_For straight I will repair to the Curragh of Kildare,_   
_It's there I'll find tidings of my dear._

_Go to him,_ her heart screamed, and for once her mind agreed. Her head thought about the prophecy that Wesley and Cordelia had mentioned; that only she could bring back Angel's memories. It also whispered to her of guilt; that it was her fault he had died in the first place. She had to make things right. 

Her heart had a simpler answer. 

_He needs you._

That was all the reason Buffy really needed. "He needs me," she said softly, taking strength in the words. She would make this right. She would find a way. 

"Who needs you?" 

Buffy jumped, spinning around and taking off her headphones. Her dad stood in the doorway looking at her. "Hw long have you been there?" 

"I just came to check on you," he said gently. "I didn't mean to startle you." 

"It's okay," Buffy said, calming back down quickly. "I'm just jumpy." 

Hank Summers nodded and came into the room to sit beside her on the bed. "What's wrong?" he asked. 

"Wrong?" Buffy nearly squeaked. "There's, uh, nothing wrong. Why would you think anything's wrong?" 

Her dad gave her a disbelieving look. "There was something on your mind all through dinner," he said. "When I came in here I heard you say 'he needs me.' Who needs you, Buffy? What's going on?" 

Buffy sighed. "It's…an old friend of mine. He…was in an accident," she lied. Well, it wasn't _exactly_ lying, but it was definitely stretching the truth. 

"I had no idea," her dad replied, sounding genuinely concerned. "When did this happen?" 

"Several weeks ago," Buffy replied. "He's…healing alright, but he has amnesia. Severe amnesia." 

"Oh," Hank said slowly. "Do you want to go back to Sunnydale to help?" he offered easily. 

Buffy smiled but shook her head. "He, uh, lives in L.A." 

"An old friend from Hemery then?" he asked gently. 

Again Buffy shook her head. "We met in Sunnydale. He moved here last year right after graduation." 

Her dad seemed to be watching her very closely. "I assume you saw him today. What's his name?" he asked. 

"Angel. And yes, I saw him today." 

He was quiet for a moment. "An old boyfriend?" he guessed a second later. 

Buffy sighed. "Yes." 

"Does your mom know about this?" 

"Mom…never liked him very much." She looked at her father warily, waiting for his response. 

To her surprise, he chuckled. "Well, your mom and I never saw eye to eye," he explained. "I promise to withhold judgment until after I've met him." 

"Thanks," Buffy said in relief. 

He smiled. "You still care about him, don't you?" 

Buffy nodded. "I guess I do," she said slowly. "Some friends have been helping him out, but there's only so much they can do. And…he seemed…better when I was there." 

Her father placed a hand on her shoulder for a second. "I know I haven't been around these last couple of years; I've only seen you once or twice," he said calmly. "You've grown up a lot." 

"I have?" 

He nodded. "You never would have cared this much about anyone else before you moved to Sunnydale," he explained. "I'm proud of you." 

"Dad…" Buffy said, slightly embarrassed but pleased at the same time. 

"I trust you," he said gently. "Do whatever you think is best. I hope Angel is better soon." 

"So do I," Buffy whispered. As her dad went to leave the room she called out to him again. "Dad?" 

He turned and looked at her. 

"Thank you."   


* * *

  
As the sun rose the next morning, Buffy was already awake to see it in all its glory. She stood in the doorway once again, no longer undecided. This was the right thing to do. 

The door opened, and there he stood as she remembered him, looking at her in faint surprise. "You came back," Angel said. He sounded shocked. 

Buffy smiled. "Of course I did. I promised, after all." 

Gently, he closed the door behind her.   


* * *

  
**Part Eight**

This was becoming a routine, and Angel found he liked that. Every morning the nightmares woke him just before sunrise. He wouldn't try to go back to sleep, however, because within minutes Buffy would be knocking on the office door. He was always upstairs and waiting for her. They would then go into the apartment and have breakfast together. 

Sometimes, Cordelia or Wesley was there as well, but mostly it was Buffy. They didn't do much, mostly just sat and talked, not about the past but about the present. Empty, light hearted things. It was mostly Buffy who spoke; Angel was still nearly silent, though he felt more comfortable when she was around. Sometimes they would watch television or Angel would read from his own rather extensive library. Buffy insisted that hadn't changed – that he'd always spent much of his time reading. Though for all he remembered these books were completely new to him. 

Finally, just as the sun went down, Buffy would leave once again. It always saddened him slightly to see her go, though he didn't know how to tell her that. But, just like the sun, she was sure to return the next morning. 

It was one of those typical days, though both of them were…antsier than usual. Angel sat in his large comfortable chair, a book in his lap. He wasn't paying that much attention to it, though. Instead, his mind was on last night's dreams. He never spoke about what he dreamt to Buffy; he didn't want to worry her. But the dreams disturbed him. 

He might have thought that his memories could be showing themselves as dreams while he slept, had they not been so out of touch with reality. Oh, sometimes the dreams were mundane enough, hazy scenes of everyday life, family and friends. Those dreams were vague, but what he did remember was the heavily accented voices and the overwhelming sensation that this was a time _long_ past. He never remembered much of those dreams. 

There were other pleasant dreams, but he knew these to be nothing but fantasy. Ever since Buffy had shown up in his living room, he had dreamed about her. Always they were here, in this apartment, and deliriously happy in one another's company. Those glimpses of making love to her were nothing but fantasy, if her current behavior was anything to go by. No one had hinted that they were ever anything more than friends. 

He treasured those dreams. Most often, though, his dreams were dizzying nightmares that made no sense at all. Death and destruction were a common theme in those dreams, the taste of blood was another. Angel still trembled internally to think about it. The thought that he could actually come up with so many words to differentiate the tastes of blood… 

Those weren't the worst of it, though. No, the dream that had caught him up last night… It was pure fear, and terror, and pain. That was the only way he could describe it. Every emotion was made real – the despair had been so heavy he could almost taste it. He had woken up with his own scream echoing in his ears. 

Angel had been looking at the one paragraph in this book for the last fifteen minutes. It made no more sense this time than it had the last. Oh, he could read it just fine, even though it was in some language he couldn't name. Funny how he could remember all these different languages but he couldn't remember his own past. 

He tried to discreetly glance at Buffy sitting on his couch, but found that she was watching him. 

As soon as she caught his eyes, she spoke. "Doesn't it drive you nuts?" 

Angel swallowed hard. "Sorry?" 

"Sitting here day after day," Buffy explained. "I'd think you'd have the biggest case of cabin fever by now." 

Angel shrugged. "Cordelia and Wesley said it's best if I stay here. That the police might be looking for me." 

"Yeah, but still!" Buffy said loudly. "I haven't been closed up in here half the time that you have, and I'm ready to crawl out of my skin! Besides, I haven't slayed anything in weeks." 

"Slayed?" Angel asked, confused. 

Buffy bit her lip. "Uh, it's not important," she stuttered. The look in her eyes said otherwise, and Angel couldn't help but wonder what she wasn't telling him. "I, um, do martial arts fighting and stuff," she tried. 

Still, it wasn't the whole truth. Angel could see that all over her face. What else wasn't he being told? 

Suddenly Buffy jumped to her feet, an odd twinkle in her eyes. "Get up," she demanded with a grin. 

Angel took the book off his lap and stood. "What are you doing?" 

"Call it an experiment," Buffy explained. "You used to help me train. And physical memory is different from memories of the past and stuff. You know, like you never forget how to ride a bike?" She took an easy battle stance. "Try and get me," she said with a grin. 

Angel tried to copy her stance even as he protested. "I don't want to hurt you." 

Buffy just laughed at that. "You won't hurt me," she said calmly. "I'm stronger than I look. Besides, I always used to win before. I don't see this time being any different." Her smile was challenging, and she took a step closer towards him. 

Buffy didn't know what exactly she was doing when she challenged Angel to fight her. She just had all this excess energy that was just begging to be released. Plus, she was completely confused as to where she stood with Angel. He was always happy to see her, but somehow he doubted he would be if he remembered how he'd gotten in this state. She'd only just admitted to herself that she still loved him, and was terrified he'd turn her away when he got his memories back. So she did nothing to reveal her feelings. 

It worked well enough, but it was turning her insides into knots. In Sunnydale, she'd go out and slay to get this tension out. She couldn't here, though, not with any regularity. Not without raising her father's suspicions and who knew who else's. 

So, here she was, challenging Angel – human Angel – into a fight not only that he stood no chance of winning, but where he could quite easily get hurt. He stood in his own battle stance, nearby but making no move to fight her. Here he was the one who could get hurt if she forgot he wasn't a vampire anymore, and he was concerned for her safety. 

Typical. 

Buffy took a swing at him, more of a feint than a real attempt. There was no force behind it and it was slow, but Angel blocked it easily. So far so good. He made no move to strike back, so she tried again, this time with a bit more force. Still he blocked it and Buffy couldn't help but grin. She knew, somehow, that he'd remember how to fight. 

Angel had yet to strike back, yet slowly she pressed him, her moves becoming more complicated, faster and stronger. Still, she had yet to connect. He avoided her punches and kicks and slipped out of her attempted throws. 

Finally he attempted to return the fight. The punch he threw missed as he hadn't really wanted to connect anyway, but Buffy could not ignore the force behind it. As the traded blows back and forth, Buffy smiled as the exertion made her breath harder. This was exactly how she remembered it. Sparring with Angel was always a deadly and delightful dance. For the moment, she forgot completely the time that had passed. 

Then suddenly she was sprawled on her back on the hardwood floor, Angel on top of her. This was definitely _not_ how she remembered it. For one thing, Angel had never won before. And she could feel the living heat of his body as he held her down, something she'd never felt before. Then there was the intensity of his gaze that Buffy fought so hard not to return. 

"A successful experiment?" Angel asked, breathless from the exertion. 

Buffy swallowed hard before she could speak. "Yeah, except I usually land on top," she said, and smiled to show she was teasing. 

To her surprise, Angel laughed. In all the time since she had found him again, he had rarely smiled and never laughed. It was a wonderful sound. She treasured it. 

Squirming out from under him, Buffy joined in his laughter. When it gone and they fought to catch their breath, Buffy looked at Angel once again. He was looking at her, grinning from ear to ear. He was so beautiful when he smiled. It made her almost loose her resolve to keep things between them within the realm of friendship. 

Her own bewildered heart was enough of a problem for Buffy to contemplate. She didn't need to think about how Angel had been strong enough to defeat her, too. 

At some point in their sparring, Buffy had stopped holding back, and Angel had defeated her. 

That…well, that was a problem for later. Definitely later.   


* * *

  
**Part Nine**

Buffy was late. Juggling the bags she had brought, she reached for the door to Angel Investigations. It was locked. 

She frowned. Since the first couple of days that she had been making the trip to Angel's she had never found the door locked. No matter how early she arrived, it was always open. Angel was always sitting in one of the office chairs waiting for her. Today Buffy was late, having gone to buy groceries first, and the locked door concerned her. 

Placing her bags on the ground, Buffy fished for the spare key Cordelia had given her. It slipped easily into the lock and the door opened with a gentle push. Lifting her grocery bags again, she entered the faintly lit office. No one was there. 

"Hello?" she called, kicking the door shut behind her. "Angel?" 

There was no response. _He must have slept late,_ Buffy told herself, but she was still worried. She put the bags down in the elevator and descended into the basement apartment. 

It was completely dark. Fumbling for a light switch, Buffy called out again. "Angel?" Again, there was no response. 

Buffy's stomach twisted with worry as she put the bags on the kitchen table. As she took a deep breath to calm herself, she finally heard a noise other than the panicked beating of her own heart. It was a barest whisper, incoherent, coming from the direction of Angel's bedroom. That was followed by a sharp, terrified cry. 

Fearing that something had come to attack Angel in his sleep, she dashed into his bedroom. Angel was still asleep, tangled in the bedcovers. He was tossing slightly and what Buffy could see of him was covered in sweat. He was mumbling something Buffy could not understand. She had no trouble deciphering his occasional panicked cries and the look of fear on his face. 

Nightmare. 

Buffy was at his side in an instant. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she seized his bare shoulders in her hands. "Angel!" she cried loudly. He thrashed in his sleep, trying to get away from her. She let go, not wanting to make his nightmare worse. "Angel, wake up!" 

He sat up suddenly, the blankets falling to his waist. His eyes were wide with panic and he was breathing heavily. A final cry died in his throat. 

"Shh," Buffy whispered as if placating a small child. "It's all right." She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "It was just a nightmare." 

Suddenly he clasped her in a fierce hug. His breath came in relieved sobs that made him shake. Buffy held him tightly to her, her hand moving gently on his back until his fear subsided. 

Angel pulled away eventually and looked at Buffy a bit sheepishly. "Sorry," he muttered. 

"It's alright," Buffy replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nightmare?" she asked. 

Angel nodded but would not meet her eye. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Buffy prompted. 

"I'd rather not," Angel said quickly. He shrugged out of her grip and slipped from the bed. 

Buffy watched as he busied himself pulling clothes for the day out of the closet. Something was wrong. "Have you had these nightmares before?" She could see the muscles of his back tense but he said nothing. He just stopped mid-motion of putting on his shirt. Buffy stood quickly and went to his side. She felt him trembling slightly when she touched his arm. "I want to help," she said. "I can't help if you won't tell me." 

Angel sighed. The release of air made him seem smaller. "Every night," he whispered. 

"Angel!" Buffy said sharply. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Angel shrugged. "Couldn't," he whispered. 

"Of course you could!" Buffy replied. "You can tell me anything," she continued in a softer tone. 

"Could I?" Angel asked a bit sharply. She could see the fear still lurking in his eyes. This nightmare had really shaken him. "Do you really want to know?" 

"I do," Buffy said firmly. She knew what it was like to have nightmares night after night. 

Angel finally met her eyes and saw the sincerity and concern within them. He sat dwn wearily on the edge of the bed. "Where do you want me to start?" he whispered, sounding defeated. 

Buffy sat next to him easily. "Why don't you start with what you dreamed last night?" 

He looked at her blankly, then stared straight ahead and began his tale. "There was a girl," he began slowly, "a young woman, wearing a long blue dress. It was…old fashioned. We were outside and it was nighttime; very dark out…and I remember the air was damp like it might start raining any minute. The girl…one minute she was smiling, and the next she got this horrified look on her face. I … the dream me … loved that, because I was the one that terrified her. She began screaming…" Angel shifted uncomfortably and his gaze drifted to his lap. "I…bit her neck. I tasted her blood." 

"You killed her," Buffy said in sudden understanding. 

"Yes," Angel whispered. He dd not raise his gaze. 

Buffy sighed softly. Memory…it had to be memory, disguised as a dream. Angel had no clue of that. The second day that Buffy had visited she, Wesley, and Cordelia had a long discussion about what they should and should not tell him. His memories, they decided, would have to come again on their own, or with Buffy's presence as the prophecies said they would. As far as vampires and demons went, they would only tell him what was necessary for their own safety. 

Thus far, that was nothing. 

Angel finally returned his gaze to Buffy. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" 

Buffy answered with a question of her own. "You've been dreaming that every night?" 

Angel shook his head. "Not exactly. Similar dreams, though." He said that as if to make her feel better. 

"How long have you been having these dreams?" 

Angel shrugged, indicating that he didn't know. Probably, then, as long as he'd been back. Buffy wondered at that. She'd have to talk to Wesley, but it sounded like his memories weren't actually gone, simply blocked instead. Only when he was asleep did they appear. 

So many terrible years… 

Angel looked at Buffy seriously. "You know something, don't you?" 

Buffy bit her lip. "I'm not sure," she replied. Before Angel could look at her suspiciously she rose from the bed. "Enough of this talk. How about some breakfast to get your mind off of this?" 

Angel came along without a protest.   


* * *

  
When Cordelia and Wesley arrived a bit later in the morning, Buffy and Angel were hanging out in the kitchen. Angel was sitting in a chair, leaning back and watching Buffy with a small smile on his face. Buffy was putting most of the food she had bought that morning into a backpack. 

"What are you doing?" Cordelia asked from the bottom of the stairs, Wesley standing just behind her. 

Buffy looked up and grinned. "Good morning, Cordelia," she said. She sounded just a bit like one of the orphans in _Annie_ greeting Miss Hanigan. 

"Good morning," Angel said softly as well a beat behind her. 

Wesley came into the kitchen a second later. "I trust you both slept well?" he said by way of greeting. 

Angel frowned and Buffy grimaced. "Let's not talk about that," she said. Wesley opened his mouth to speak again when Buffy snapped, "Later, okay?" At the look of hurt in the ex-Watcher's face, Buffy softened. "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean it like that." 

"Yes, well…" Wesley swallowed. "I was merely going to reiterate Cordelia's question," he said. 

Buffy looked blankly at Cordelia. "I'm sorry. You had a question?" 

Cordelia gave a long-suffering sigh. "I asked what you were doing," she said, gesturing at the mostly packed bag. 

"Oh!" Buffy glanced briefly at Angel and broke into a grin. "We're going on a picnic," she declared happily. 

Wesley paled. "Are you sure that's the best idea?" he asked. 

Buffy frowned at him. "Oh, come on!" she said, slightly angry. "Aren't you sick of being closed in here all the time? It's about time Angel got to have some fun. Besides," she grinned again, "I want to see what he looks like with a suntan." 

Cordelia chuckled. 

Wesley frowned at them both. "You are forgetting," he said sternly, "that the police are looking for him. I simply don't think…" 

"You're right; you don't!" Buffy interrupted him loudly. "Do you really think the police are *really* looking for him? That's just words. Besides, they think he's dead! They are not going to go out of their way looking for a dead man wanted for some piddly crime!" She took a deep breath. "I almost wish they would," she said, her voice deadly quiet. "I've got a lot to get back at them for." 

The room went dead silent in the wake of her pronouncement. 

"Uh, I'm confused." 

All eyes went to Angel, seemingly having forgotten he was there. The three of them shifted uncomfortably and would not look at him. 

Angel looked at them all in turn. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked very softly. 

Buffy slowly sank into the chair beside him. Ignoring the looks both Cordelia and Wesley were giving her, she sighed. "You made some enemies…or, one enemy, actually…in the police department." 

Angel looked thoughtful. "How? What did I do?" 

"You helped a wanted murderer," Buffy said after a moment, slowly and without emotion. 

Angel winced. 

"Mostly, she just doesn't like you," Cordelia chimed in. 

Now Angel looked even more confused, if that was possible. "What? Who?" 

"Cop lady," Cordelia explained. "Kate." 

"Oh," Angel said, though he looked just as confused as before. "And they think I'm dead? The police?" 

Cordelia and Wesley came and sat at the table as well. "Not the police, actually," Wesley began. "They believe you escaped. Kate believes you are dead." 

"But she's the only one that really wanted you captured," Cordelia added quickly. 

Angel looked thoughtfully between the three of them. "And this person I helped?" he prompted. 

It was Buffy who answered this time. "You…felt she deserved a second chance," she said slowly. She sighed. "She was a friend once." 

Both Cordelia and Wesley looked surprised at this admission, but Angel did not notice. "And this is why you did not want me leaving here?" he asked them. 

Wesley nodded. "Yes," he agreed. "But now I feel that Buffy is right." 

"I am?" Buffy asked in surprise. Then she grinned. "Of course I am." She looked at Wesley. "Do you want to come with us?" 

Wesley shook his head. "No…Cordelia and I will mind the office. You two…have a good time." 

Cordelia stood and grinned. "Get a suntan for me," she said to Angel. "The never-seen-the-sunlight look is so out." 

Angel's confused look disappeared to be replaced with a grin.   


* * *

  
**Part Ten**

Buffy and Angel were holding hands as they walked along the pier. They hadn't even realized they'd done it. Or, at least, Buffy didn't seem to notice. Angel was very much aware of her small hand in his. Though it was a surprise, it felt right, so he did not mention it. 

They had happily eaten the picnic Buffy had brought on the edge of the sand. Though few words were exchanged, they were both content in each other's company. Now, still silent, they walked along the sunlit pier. 

It was wonderful to be outside, Angel decided. They had been confined in the two-story apartment and office for far too long. Though when he'd first stepped into the sunlight he'd had to squint until a headache passed, now he reveled in the feeling of it on his skin. It felt nice…different… 

Angel looked up suddenly, feeling Buffy's eyes on him. She was watching him, he realized, and he could not begin to decipher the look on her face. "What?" he asked softly, breaking the silence between them. 

Buffy jumped in surprise, her hand pulling away suddenly. "Huh?" she asked. 

Though he missed the contact between them, Angel made no move to take Buffy's hand again. "You were staring," he said softly. 

"I was?" Buffy asked in surprise. 

Angel nodded. 

"I'm sorry." Buffy quite purposefully looked away from him, staring at the expanse of beach and water. 

"I didn't say I minded," Angel muttered. "I was just…surprised." 

Buffy looked at him, startled. "It's just…nice. To be outside, you know?" She looked away again quickly. "I like seeing you in the sunlight," she said very softly. 

Angel couldn't help but stare at her while she was looking the other way. The sun was turning her hair into strands of gold. She seemed to gather the sunlight around her until she glowed. "I like seeing you in the sunlight, too" Angel whispered back. 

Buffy spun to face him again. They were suddenly only centimeters apart. Buffy's eyes were very wide, the sunlight making them sparkle. Angel's breath caught in his throat. "Have we been here before?" he asked huskily. 

"What?" Buffy asked, blinking at him. She came out of her daze slowly and stepped back. "I mean…what?" 

Angel swallowed as she took a step back. "You…me…I think…" He blinked. He cleared his throat again and his voice took on an urgent tone. "Buffy, have we been here before?" 

Buffy looked at him oddly. Perhaps she saw something in his eyes, for she answered him seriously, "No, Angel, we've never been here before. Not together, at least." 

"Oh." Angel looked down at his feet, uncomfortable under Buffy's intense gaze. He could see this place in his mind's eye. He could see Buffy's startled gaze as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately…right there, only a couple of paces down the pier. Seeing as how she would barely hold his hand, though, he must have been mistaken. Maybe it was simply the memory of a dream. 

"What is it?" Buffy asked, concerned. 

Angel shifted slightly, disturbed. He hated his lack of memory. Especially in moments like this, when he didn't know where he stood with Buffy. But he couldn't tell her how he saw her, even in his dreams, without knowing that. "Nothing," he replied softly, not looking at her. 

Buffy ducked into his line of sight, forcing him to look at her. "It's not nothing, obviously. You're a terrible liar," she tried to tease. 

Still Angel said nothing. Instead he began to walk along the pier again. 

"Don't do that," Buffy said quickly. "Don't shut me out. Please, tell me what's wrong." 

Angel stopped and sighed. "It's just…I thought…" 

"Was it memory?" Buffy asked suddenly. 

"I thought it was," Angel said after a moment. "I hoped… I saw the two of us, on a beautiful, sunny day like today, kissing right here." He waited apprehensively for Buffy's response. 

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. Her voice was filled with regret. "That…never happened." She sighed. "That couldn't have happened," she added to herself, obviously not meaning for Angel to hear. She was moving away from him again. 

"Why not?" Angel asked quickly. "Why couldn't that have happened?" 

As he expected, Buffy gave no reply. She simply looked at him and walked on.   


* * *

  
When Cordelia came back to the office to check on Angel that evening, she was surprised to find Buffy still there. She was sitting in one of the office chairs, looking down with her head in her hands. 

"Are you all right?" Cordelia asked gently. 

Buffy jumped in surprise. When she saw who it was, she relaxed considerably. "Cordy," she said in greeting. 

"I didn't mean to startle you," Cordelia said quickly. She was surprised that she'd managed to startle Buffy at all. 

Buffy sighed. "It was my fault. I was…thinking." 

"Should I leave you to your difficult task, then?" Cordelia asked. Buffy glared at her. "I'm sorry. That was unnecessary." She looked around the office, uncertain of how to proceed. "So, how did your picnic go?" she asked at last. 

Buffy did not answer at first. She looked down at her hands, then back at Cordelia. "Did you know that Angel's been having dreams?" she asked suddenly. 

Cordelia just looked at her, confused at the change in subject. "Most people do," she replied. The look on Buffy's face said there was more to it than that. She sat on the edge of the desk next to Buffy. "What sort of dreams?" 

"Nightmares," Buffy said with a sigh. She looked up at Cordelia pointedly. "Memories, I'm pretty sure." 

Cordelia swallowed. "Does he know?" she asked. 

Buffy shook her head. "He thinks they're just nightmares. And I couldn't tell him otherwise. How could I tell him that he really has killed more people than I could ever care to count?" She shuddered. 

Cordelia said nothing in response and Buffy sighed again. "And worse, today he thought he remembered something." 

Cordelia looked at her in confusion. "How is that worse?" 

"Because it wasn't real," Buffy said sadly. 

"Oh." Cordelia could understand her disappointment; she felt it, too. "What did he think he remembered?" 

Buffy thought for a second. "he thought we'd been there before. Him, me, sunlight…" She looked at Cordelia for a second, daring her to see how ludicrous it was. 

At first Cordelia was nodding along with her, then she stopped abruptly as a thought struck. "I don't know how to say this, but I sort of have to since Angel can't…" she began slowly. 

"What is it?" 

Cordelia swallowed. "There is a…slight possibility that it was a memory." 

"Cordelia…" 

"I know it sounds ridiculous," Cordelia said defensively, "and it really should be Angel who tells you since it's his mess, but he can't. I don't even know the whole story! So you have to forgive me for leaving out details." She made a face. "So glad I don't know the details…" she muttered. 

Buffy was looking at her with a worried expression. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this story?" she asked. 

"I have no idea," Cordelia muttered sarcastically. "You remember when you came here right after Thanksgiving?" 

"Yes," Buffy said slowly, wondering where this was going. 

"Well, apparently there were two versions of that day. The first one only Angel remembers…or would remember if he could remember anything. The rest of us just remember the rewrite," Cordelia tried to explain. 

"I am now horribly confused," Buffy muttered. 

"So am I," Cordelia said. 

"But you're saying this could have been the memory of a day that only Angel remembers?" Cordelia nodded. "Us, together in the sunlight?" Buffy's breath stuck in her throat. 

"It's possible," Cordelia acknowledged. 

"No, it's not, remember?" Buffy said loudly. "What aren't you telling me?" 

Cordelia sighed. "I told you; I don't know much. I don't know all of the hows and whys. I just know that somehow in that day Angel became human. And I know that for some reason he got the day started over so that it never happened." 

Buffy sat back in the chair, stunned to speechlessness.   


* * *

  
Contrary to what he'd said he was doing when he descended into the apartment, Angel was not resting. It was too hard to rest when the mind would not still. He kept seeing the same image from this afternoon – Buffy and himself, standing on the pier, locked in a passionate kiss. The more he thought about it, the more real it became until he could taste her lips and feel the warmth of the sunlight. 

But it wasn't real. The blurring of the line between the fanciful and the real was beginning to scare him. He so wanted his memories to return, but maybe he was trying to hard. Maybe he was creating false memories instead. 

The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled Angel from his thoughts. He stood up quickly, looking to see who it was. He watched as Buffy descended slowly, a troubled expression on her face. 

"What's wrong?" Angel asked hurriedly, forgetting his own concerns. 

Buffy proceeded the rest of the way down the stairs before she spoke. She stopped and slowly met Angel's gaze. "We need to talk," she said softly. 

Angel nodded. "We do," he acknowledged. Buffy sighed and nodded to herself, then opened her mouth to speak. Angel stopped her. "Wait." 

"What?" Buffy asked, looking even more troubled. 

"I need to ask you something first," Angel said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. 

Buffy's expression was slightly wary, but she nodded. "Alright." 

Angel swallowed. He needed to know this one thing, and his memories didn't seem to be exactly forthcoming. But to just ask… "Were we…involved…before?" 

Buffy was obviously uncomfortable and would not meet his gaze. "Angel…" she muttered. 

"Please, Buffy," Angel said strongly. "I need the truth." 

Buffy sighed and looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes," she said softly. "We were involved. On and off for nearly three years, actually, until about a year ago." 

"Oh," Angel whispered, unable to think of more of a response. He stepped back from Buffy and lowered himself back into his chair. He rested his hands on his knees and did not speak. 

"You don't seem surprised," Buffy said after a moment. 

Angel thought for a second. "I'm not," he explained. "Not really. It feels right." 

Buffy nodded to herself. "Yeah," she whispered. "It often did." 

"But not always?" Angel asked, not looking at her. 

"But not always," Buffy acknowledged. 

Neither of them said anything after that. For Buffy, there was nothing else to say. For Angel, he knew that any other discussion on the subject would have to wait, preferably until he got his memories back. *If* he got his memories back. That brought Angel back to his darker thoughts from earlier, and he turned to Buffy to think about something else. "You said we had something to talk about," Angel reminded her. 

"Oh," Buffy said. "That's right, I did." 

When she didn't say anything, Angel looked at her pointedly. "What is it?" 

Buffy bit her lip. "It's about…what you remembered at the beach today. What I said never happened." 

"Yes," Angel said reluctantly. Just what he'd tried not to think about. 

"I…I shouldn't have said that," Buffy said uncertainly. "It…I may… That is, you may have been right." 

"What?" Angel asked, confused. 

Buffy sat in the other chair and looked at the ceiling. "I was speaking with Cordelia," she said. "Very short version, there's a day that was erased that only you carry the memories of. What you thought you remembered may have been from that day." 

"But I don't carry the memories of that _day_!" Angel protested. "I don't carry the memories of any day. At least, not before…" 

"Angel," Buffy interrupted him firmly, sitting forward and staring him in the eyes, "you do carry those memories. Those memories and many more. They'll return to you in time." 

"But how do you know?" Angel said back, trying to hide the terrified, uncertain feelings behind it. 

Buffy smiled _very_ slightly. "I know," she said. 

Angel looked at her suspiciously. Part of him was sure she was only saying this for comfort's sake. Another part of him took any hope that was offered, but wondered at the source. "Does this have anything to do with my dreams?" he asked, slightly frightened at the prospect. 

"Some," Buffy answered, seeming to watch him closely for a reaction. 

Angel flinched. The images of blood and death flashed through his mind again. "How could that…" He left the sentence hanging. 

"It's a strange world we live in," Buffy said calmly. "Until you remember more on your own, I can't tell you more. It's too hard." 

"On who?" Angel demanded. 

"On both of us," Buffy replied firmly. "I'm not ready to tell you, and I don't think you're ready to handle it." 

"Ready?" Angel asked, his voice rising. "What if I'm never ready? What if my memories never return?" 

"But they will," she affirmed. "You have to trust in that." 

"How can I?" Angel demanded. "How can I trust in that when the only thing I've thought I remembered never happened? No one can tell me for sure if what I think is true, because it's all part of some 'erased' day." He paused then, his own words registering. "_Erased_ day?" 

Buffy couldn't help but smile slightly at that. "I told you – it's a strange world we live in." her smile faded after a moment and she looked at him intently. "Would it make you feel better if I made you a promise?" she asked. 

"What sort of promise?" 

She thought for a second. "If your memory is not making an obvious improvement by the time I have to return to school, I will tell you everything I can." 

Angel sighed. Part of him wanted to know everything right now. But maybe there was a reason he didn't remember. Maybe Buffy was right and he wouldn't be able to handle it right now. "I would like that," he said at last. 

Buffy smiled. "Then that's a deal." 

"Wait." 

"Hmm?" 

"One more thing," Angel pressed. "If I have questions – not big 'tell-me-everything' questions, but yes-or-no questions or little things, would you try and answer them honestly for me?" 

Buffy clearly thought that over for a second. "Do I have the right to tell you there are certain questions I can't answer?" 

Angel nodded. 

She smiled reassuringly at him. "It sounds like we have a plan." 

Angel smiled back, suddenly feeling incredibly relieved. "Yeah," he agreed, "I think we do."__

_Continues..._

   [1]: mailto:cynamin@hotmail.com



	3. Parts 11 - End

##  Phoenix

###  By [Cynamin][1]

_Disclaimers: I don't own them. Wish I did have Angel. But I own this plot! (Like would this ever happen on the shows?) Songs used within this story don't belong to me, either._   


* * *

  
**Part Eleven**

"You mean we've never done this before?" 

Buffy grinned at Angel's befuddled question. "Nope, never." 

Angel took a second to think about that. "We were involved, as you say, on and off for three years and we never went to dinner and a movie together?" 

"Movie, yes," she replied, taking another bite of her meal. "Out to dinner, no." 

After a second, Angel spoke again. "Why?" he asked simply. When Buffy did not immediately respond, he added, "Or is that one of those questions you can't answer?" 

Buffy ate slowly to give herself time to think of an appropriate answer. "There are…some parts of the reason we never went out to dinner together that I can't explain," she said. "I can say that we were never conventional date sort of people." 

Angel stopped eating abruptly and looked at her. "Is that what this is, then? A date?" 

Her food stuck in her throat. "Angel, I…" 

He waved it off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He broke their gaze and wiped his hands on his napkin in a nervous gesture. 

Buffy felt awful. Giving Angel her best reassuring smile she said, "I've had a great time tonight so far." 

Angel's return smile was half-hearted at best. "So have I," he replied. 

That just made Buffy feel worse. Ever since their trip to the beach, their 'let's get together and have a good time' outings had been getting more and more date-like. Buffy just couldn't bring herself to think of them that way, though. It was not that she didn't love Angel; part of her always did. The more time she spent around Angel, amnesia or no, the stronger her feelings for him got. 

He'd changed slightly with the loss of memory. For one thing, his general mood seemed lighter. He hadn't lost his ability to brood, but it didn't have the weight of centuries behind it anymore. He also was frequently uncertain, and carried with him a charming sort of innocence. 

Yes, she loved him more every day. And though he said nothing, she knew he loved her, too. He was terrible at hiding his feelings; something else that had changed. 

And that terrified her, seeing that he loved her so clearly. Because she didn't deserve it, not anymore. She was terrified with Angel's memories looming on the horizon that he'd remember her role in his death and hate her for it. Not only that, but that he'd hate her for being with him through the summer months when he'd rather never see her again. 

So she did her best to keep her distance. Not her physical distance, of course, since he needed her there, but her emotional distance. Yet every time she pulled away, she saw the hurt clearly in Angel's expression. That just made her feel terrible. 

There was no good solution to this situation. 

The rest of the meal was shared in relative silence, and the couple of bites Buffy managed to force down were heavy in her stomach. 

Angel insisted on paying the check, unintentionally increasing the date-like atmosphere of the evening. There was nothing that could be done about it, though, as Buffy had very little money. He may not have been able to do much work in the last two months, but Angel was still the one with a job. 

Buffy did not look at Angel as they exited the restaurant. With any luck she could get away with not saying anything all the way through the movie. This was not the way she'd planned for this evening to go. She stared down at her feet as they walked. 

"Buffy, I'm sorry," Angel began, trying to draw her attention. 

Buffy just nodded to herself. "I know," she mumbled. 

"I really shouldn't have said anything," Angel said, only half to her. "I just…it's…" 

They were too distracted by each other and their feelings to have any inkling of the attack before it came. One moment Buffy was looking at the pavement in between her feet, and the next moment she was tasting it. A moment later she felt a sharp pain at the back of her skull, and then….   


* * *

  
It was cold and damp and Angel ached all over. The ground beneath him was hard and there was a significant weight pressed against his left side. He opened his eyes and for a moment couldn't see anything. This could not be a good thing. 

There was nothing wrong with his vision. He was simply trapped in total darkness the likes of which he had never seen. Even as his eyes adjusted he could see nothing. He could feel, though. He could feel that the floor beneath him was concrete. He could feel that the weight against his side was alive. "Buffy?" he queried, his voice very loud in the darkness. 

She shifted against him with a moan as she stirred. "Angel?" she whispered. 

"Right here," he whispered back, giving her a gentle squeeze around her shoulders. Right now he needed to be reassured of her presence just as much as she needed his. 

She relaxed against him. "Did you get the name of that truck?" she muttered. 

If it had been under less dire circumstances, he might have laughed. As it was, he turned towards Buffy in concern even though he could not see her. "Are you alright?" 

"I will be," came Buffy's reply. "I wish they hadn't hit me so hard, though." 

Angel was amazed at her light tone. "Who were they?" he asked. 

Angel could feel Buffy's shrug in response. "This is your town," he explained. "You have a better chance at knowing them than I do." 

"In other words, no chance at all," Angel muttered. 

Buffy pulled away from him slightly. "Now is not the time for brooding," she scolded him. "Cheer up!" 

"Cheer up?" Angel asked in shock. "We've been abducted off the street and locked up who-knows-where and you want me to cheer up?!" 

"What else can you do?" Buffy replied simply. "I've been in bad situations before. So have you. Brooding about them never did any good." 

Angel leaned back against the cold stone. "I've been in bad situations before? Situations like this?" 

Buffy was silent for a long moment. "Exactly like this? I'm not sure. But some pretty bad situations. Some _very_ bad situations." 

"Captured and imprisoned?" Angel asked after a moment, completely shocked at the idea. 

Buffy paused again. "Yes," she said reluctantly. 

Angel shivered. Captured, cold, afraid…he'd been in situations like this before? It felt so alien to him. "What aren't you telling me?" he whispered. 

"Angel, I can't…" Buffy began helplessly. 

"Don't say that!" Angel suddenly yelled in frustration. "You keep telling me that there are things you can't tell me, and I thought I understood that. But, Buffy, I can't take these partial explanations and half-truths anymore! You tell me I'm wanted by the police for helping a murderer. You tell me that I've made enemies. You tell me that one of them – a police officer, no less – wanted me captured and now thinks I'm dead. You tell me that I've 'been in bad situations before.'" He paused to catch his breath. "It's like a puzzle missing too many pieces to make out any sort of picture. I'm missing something, and since my memory doesn't seem to be forthcoming, I'm assuming you know exactly what's going on. Considering the situation, I think you _need_ to tell me." 

For a very long time Buffy said nothing at all. "Angel," she said wearily, "this isn't something I can just tell. It's too hard for me, and I'm afraid…" 

"Afraid?" Angel asked sharply. "Don't you think I'm afraid? And not just now, with being captured. I mean every day. I'm afraid because I wake up every day and I don't know. I don't _know_! Everything in my life is a complete blank. I can't see a future for myself, because I don't have a past! So what are you possibly afraid of?" 

"I'm afraid you'll hate me!" Buffy cried in response. 

Angel was completely shocked. "Buffy, what…" 

She swallowed so hard Angel could hear it. "You would. I know you would! So yes, Angel, I'm afraid. I'm afraid you'll remember and you'll hate me." 

"I could never hate you," Angel said thickly, the words sticking in his throat. 

"You could," Buffy said softly. "If you remembered everything I've done to you, you could hate me." 

"Buffy," Angel said certainly, "you have helped me far more than I ever expected. Without you, I would still be cowering in my basement apartment, probably barely speaking. Now, not to say that _this_ situation is a great improvement…" That earned a faint chuckle from Buffy. "It would have been far worse without you here." 

"That's why you'll hate me," Buffy whispered. "You'll hate me because if you knew what I know, you wouldn't want me here. I shouldn't be here." 

"Then why are you here?" Angel asked earnestly. He felt her withdrawing from his side and reached for her blindly. "Please, Buffy! If you think I'd hate you so much, why are you here?" 

"Because I love you," Buffy whispered in the darkness. 

Angel was certain he hadn't heard her right. "What?" 

"I love you, okay!" Buffy yelled suddenly. Then she breathed in harshly. "Oh…" she whispered. 

Angel felt the breath rush from his lungs. "I love you," he heard himself whisper back. 

He heard a sob catch in Buffy's throat. "Angel, please…" 

"Buffy…" He caught her arm blindly. His mind was swimming. "Please, don't…" 

She pulled her arm away. "Don't do this to me!" she cried. "You don't know what you're saying! You don't know…" 

"But I do know," Angel said calmly back. "I do know. I love you. I always have and I always will." 

Buffy sobbed. "You know that?" she whispered hopefully. The she sobbed again. "You couldn't know." 

Angel's head felt all fuzzy, but one thing was clear. "I know," he said with certainty. "I love you, too." 

Suddenly Angel felt her weight against him as she flung herself against his side. "I love you," she cried. "I never stopped. I didn't mean what I said." He held her as she shook with tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I love you." 

Her words were a soothing balm on a wound that Angel didn't even know he had. Despite the cold and the damp and the fear, Angel felt himself smiling. Holding her tightly against him, he let the world slip away.   


* * *

  
**Part Twelve**   
Section notes: The song is "Tip Toe" by Kila. / / denotes flashback. 

_Tip toe through tireless peace_   
_Come and go, leave your toys and sweets_   
_If I had a place you could visit me_   
_Read fairy tales, play hide and go seek_

Angel held Buffy to him, rocking slightly as one might comfort a small child. Without really thinking about it, he hummed a soft tune reminiscent of a lullaby as she calmed in his arms. 

_Cliff faces are far too steep_   
_Even though we try to smile through our teeth_

Yet even as he devoted his thoughts to giving her comfort, his mind was being pulled elsewhere. It was as if his mind had been struck by lightening, and now something he could not name was burning him from within. It was impossible to fight it. 

/Disorientation. Confusion. Sensation./ 

_This surface is not too deep_   
_Although we have our secrets to keep_

/Scents hung heavy in the air, like over-fragrant incense. It smelled like frankincense, so thick that it had lost all possibility of pleasantness. There was a hint of something else beneath it, but he couldn't tell what it was. It softened the scent slightly, but not enough. 

It made his lungs burn./ 

_Tightropes are seldom too weak_   
_Say I've lost my shoes or I have cold feet_

/His entire body felt wrong. Like it didn't belong to him. His chest felt tight. And that felt wrong, unfamiliar. He…he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating. 

His sudden gasp for air made him cough violently. It hurt…actually, everything hurt. The burning in his lungs, however, faded with each gasping breath./ 

_Say stranger how did we meet_   
_Who will hear us when we start to speak_

/Without realizing it immediately, he had opened his eyes when he had started coughing. His vision was simply a blur at first, a swirl of reds and oranges. For some reason the flickering, fiery images made him deathly afraid. 

He tried to wipe his eyes to clear them, but found that he couldn't. He couldn't move his arms. Both were held fast about the wrists and he struggled in vain against his bonds./ 

_Our shadows are still out on the street_   
_My skin still as white as a sheet_

/Two figures entered his hazy and confused vision. At first he only got vague impressions they were there. The first was a vibrant, energetic, and powerful presence that soothed him in a way he didn't understand. The second figure was dark and suffocating, as if it took everything around it in and gave nothing in return./ 

_Our time is short and fleet_   
_Empty pockets, trick or treat_

/The dark figure spoke first. "Your creation is awake, old woman," he said. His image resolved itself into a middle-aged man. He was dressed in a long, red robe, but beneath it peeked the collar of a dress shirt and tie. 

The second figure was a woman, and despite the man's words she did not seem to be old to the captive. In truth, he could not tell what age she was. Her hair was long and straight, and pure white. She, too, was dressed in a robe, white as her hair, though she wore hers like it was a part of her instead of simply ceremonial trapping./ 

_We all need food to eat_   
_Friend or foe we all go to sleep_

/"He is not my creation," she said in a voice that was both young and old. She had an odd accent. "You make me sound like Dr. Frankenstein." 

The man scoffed at that. "We all saw the ashes," he said. "You can't expect me to believe that…" 

"I don't care what you believe, so long as you listen," the woman snapped. "I told you; you can not simply kill this man. He is too important to Them. The retribution would be beyond what either of us could imagine. The best we can do is render him powerless…helpless. Than neither he nor They can do anything against you." 

The man smiled cruelly. "I like the way you think, old woman," he said, running a hand down her side./ 

_Life away from home is far from cheep_   
_So look long before you leap_

/The woman looked disgusted at his touch. "Stand back, fool," she demanded. "I'm not done here." 

"What do you mean you're not done?" the man demanded. He gestured towards the captive. "Look at him, staring at us like a frightened animal. He's helpless. Harmless." 

"Yes, he is," the woman agreed. "But do you want him to stay that way or for him to remember exactly what you did to him the moment he walks out that door?" 

The man looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he stepped out of the captive's field of view. "Proceed," he ordered./ 

_Hey soldier please have a seat_   
_You're only alive while your own heart beats_

/To the man, it might have appeared like she was leaning over the captive, chanting. To the captive it was something else entirely. She held a long knife in her hands, its blade catching the firelight. "I'm sorry," she whispered so that only he could hear. "I wish there was another way. But the Phoenix must rise again." 

She held the knife steadily over his chest. His breath came faster in fear. "You will now remember me," she said, "but you will see me again, Angel." 

Then the knife lowered slowly. It pierced his skin and he cried out in sudden pain. He continued to scream as she dragged the knife along his chest. It cut deep, and somewhere beyond the pain and terror he could feel the dampness of his own blood. As she looked into his agonized gaze she chanted softly, inaudible over his screams. She continued her work with careful precision, a lone teat trickling down her cheek./ 

_There will always be wolves among the sheep_   
_But what's left of the earth will be plowed by the meek_   
_Ploughed by the meek_   
_By the meek…_

/Suddenly she stopped, removing her knife, and the scream died in Angel's throat. He was panting for breath, already feeling strange from the loss of blood. She stood tall before him, already withdrawing from his vision. 

"Clean and dress that wound," she ordered the man still somewhere in the room. "You don't want him dying after all the work I did to give him to you alive." The woman swept out of sight a second later, and Angel could hear the sound of a heavy door slamming. 

She was gone./ 

_Tip toe through tireless peace_   
_Come and go, leave your toys and sweets_

/The man reappeared before Angel, a sneer twisting his already cruel features. "Clean and dress that wound," he mocked. "No, it may hurt like hell, but it won't kill you…yet." He leaned over Angel and pressed a hand over the precise cuts, making him bite back another cry of pain. "Just think," the man said. "Reborn, the first sound you make is always a scream." He pulled his hand away and showed Angel the blood. "Revenge is sweet, isn't it?" 

He stood up again, still smiling. "You will leave here when we are done with you; don't doubt that," he said. "No reason for us to keep you around any more than necessary. First, though…" he turned from Angel to direct his attention to someone out of sight. "Do with him what you will," he said. "So long as he'd breathing when he leaves here, nothing else matters." 

He returned his gaze to Angel and his voice dropped into a mocking tone. "Be a good boy and drop into a coma for us, would you?" he said. Then he, too, was gone. 

The pain and the screams continued./ 

_When I have a place you can visit me_   
_Read fairy tales, play hide and go seek_   
_And go seek_   
_And go seek_   
_And go seek_   
_Go seek…_

"Angel!" Buffy's voice was very close at hand. "Angel, what's wrong?" 

Angel's breath calmed and his heartbeat slowed. He looked down at Buffy, knowing that she was concerned even though he could not see her in the darkened room. "What?" Angel asked in confusion. 

"You were shaking," Buffy explained. "You were holding me, humming, then stopped suddenly, started shaking, and wouldn't answer me." 

"I'm alright," Angel assured her, but he wasn't so certain of that himself. He felt dazed, disoriented. He put his hand to the scar on his chest and was faintly surprised to find that it wasn't bleeding or even painful. "How am I alive?" Angel whispered. 

Buffy sat up straighter, pulling away from him slightly. "What?" 

"I was dead, wasn't I?" Angel asked. He was surprised at how easily the question came. He frowned in concentration. No, there was something more… "How long was I...?" 

"You remember something," Buffy said in understanding. 

"Yes," Angel whispered, preoccupied. 

"Tell me what it is, Angel, please?" 

Angel leaned back, suddenly exhausted. "I saw…when I was brought back, I guess. I…can't explain how they did it. And I don't know who they were. But I know I _was_ dead. And I think you know it, too. But how long…" 

Buffy sighed audibly. "Were you dead?" she finished for him. "We…Cordelia, Wesley, and I…aren't sure, exactly. You were gone for several days, but considering…the condition you were in when you were found, you may have only been dead for a brief time, then kept…elsewhere. Captive." There was a long pause as Buffy contemplated what to say next. "That's not all you're asking, though, is it?" 

Angel didn't even need to think about his answer. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a large precipice, possibly even already falling, over the gaping hole called 'past.' "No, that's not all I was asking." 

Buffy shifted against him, and Angel could imagine her thinking of how to approach the subject gently. She took a deep breath, then spoke slowly and precisely. "You were dead…undead…for two and a half centuries." She waited silently for Angel's response. 

"Undead?" he asked, ready to refute what she'd said. Then it all seemed to slip together, dreams traveling over the line into memory. "Vampire." 

"Yes," Buffy replied carefully. 

Angel was faintly surprised. Not at the facts, which came together, healing his fractured memory with each passing second. Rather he was surprised that Buffy, who had refused to tell him anything about his past, was suddenly so forthcoming. "Why are you telling me this now?" he asked. 

"Because you were right," Buffy explained. "I don't know what we're up against, but it _always_ has something to do with demons, vampires, or fighting all of the above. I would bet anything that whoever captured us is in league with demons or evil or something." She sighed and leaned comfortably into Angel's arms once again. "Besides," she whispered, "I get the feeling you already knew." 

Faces without names. Names without faces. Names and faces together. Mother, father, sister…sire, childe…friend, lover… "Yes, I knew."   


* * *

  
**Part Thirteen**

Buffy leaned comfortably into Angel's embrace. The warmth of his body, delightfully unfamiliar, drove back the chill of their cell. That's what this was, of course, a cell. Buffy had not doubt about that. Whoever had put them there had taken care to knock her out before she could put up a fight. She never even caught a glimpse of them. 

She wasn't thinking about that right now. Her chance – their chance – to fight would come. There was nothing they could do until the opportunity presented itself. No, instead she was taking comfort in Angel's presence as best she could. She listed to the steady beat of his heart and the soft whisper of his breath. His arm was loose but comforting around her shoulders. She wished this could go on forever. Well, under better conditions, of course. She was afraid it wouldn't continue, though. 

"Angel?" she asked very softly. 

She felt him shift slightly and knew he was looking at her. "What?" he asked, sounding distracted. 

She swallowed hard. "How much… What do you remember?" 

Angel said nothing for what felt like an extremely long time. "Buffy," he said with a sigh. "It's…I don't know." 

"You're confused," Buffy said, half in question. She knew he remembered some; she could feel it. She didn't know, though, whether this would be a miraculous recovery like they talked about in the movies, or just another step on a long road. Buffy was hoping for the former, but she was betting on the later. 

Buffy could feel Angel nod. "Yes, I'm confused, " he acknowledged. "As for what I remember…I couldn't give you the story of my life at the moment, but at least I know I actually had a life now." He chuckled weakly. "At least, I know I had a life _once_." 

Buffy couldn't help but smile slightly at that. At least, even in such dire circumstances, he'd managed to keep his sense of humor. She didn't know where things stood between them, though. "Do you remember…" she began hesitantly. 

She never got to finish her sentence, as the door suddenly opened with a loud groan. With her eyes fully adjusted to the total darkness of the cell, the sudden light blinded her. She scrambled to her feet, instantly ready to fight against the assailants she couldn't see. Angel stood quickly beside her. 

"Well, isn't that sweet," an older male voice said sarcastically. "Restrain her quickly!" he ordered, and Buffy felt herself grabbed from behind. 

She struggled against her captors. An elbow connected with someone behind her, and she heard a grunt of pain. She felt a flash of triumph before someone else grabbed her, tighter than the first. 

"Hold her!" the same man as before yelled as she struggled. Suddenly she felt a needle dig painfully into her upper arm, and then her whole arm seemed to go numb. The person holding her relaxed. 

Even as her vision adjusted to the light, she began to feel woozy and lethargic. "What have you done to me?" she asked thickly. 

"Simply a mild tranquilizer…made just for you," the man said confidently. "Can't be too careful. Don't worry; it will wear off soon enough. Of course, you'll be dead by then…." He smiled coldly at her before turning to the men – his flunkies, she supposed – who stood with him. "Bring them both!" 

Buffy's eyes adjusted quickly after that, even as the drug took its toll. Through her blurry vision, she could see Angel being led out before her. He was being held by one disgustingly muscular man and not fighting. She wanted to yell at him to try and break free but couldn't. Then, slowly, he turned around to look at her, and something in his gaze made Buffy's words die in her throat. 

He gave her a reassuring smile, and Buffy felt herself smiling in return. Whoever their captors were, they had no idea that Angel had maintained his supernatural strength! He turned his back to her again before his gaze could be noticed. 

They were escorted into a large room with high ceilings. The room was empty of furnishings, except for a high backed chair facing a large wooden pole secured to the floor. Buffy had the strongest sense of déjà vu, and being burned at the stake really wasn't a memory she looked forward to revisiting. There were people moving about the room, some in street clothes, some in ceremonial robes, all of them human as far as Buffy could tell. 

Near the center of the room, two people were arguing vehemently. The first was an older man, his hair just beginning to go gray, wearing an expansive looking business suit. A nervous looking younger, smaller man who had 'flunky' written all over him hovered behind him carrying a length of red fabric. He was being ignored. Instead, the older man screamed at an elderly woman facing him. Buffy tried not to show too much interest as she listened to the argument. 

"This is no good!" he yelled. "he was supposed to be out of the way! Instead, I've got a Slayer to deal with, too!" 

The woman was completely unfazed. Calmly she replied, "I said he'd be helpless. I didn't say he couldn't find outside help." Buffy realized in surprise that though her hair was completely white, Buffy had no clue how old this woman was after all. 

Even as she listened to the argument, Buffy found herself watching Angel's reaction. He'd paled considerably as soon as he'd seen the two of them. He no longer looked at them, but stood stiffly in his captor's grasp. Buffy wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but it was taking all of her strength at this point to remain standing. 

A pointed cough sounded in Buffy's ear. One of the guards holding Buffy cleared his throat noisily to gain the suited man's attention. 

The strange argument stopped abruptly. Buffy could not help but notice their vastly differing reactions. The man gave a self-satisfied grin and walked towards them possessively. The woman, on the other hand, looked shocked – even possibly alarmed – at seeing them. Or, more specifically, at seeing Angel; her eyes were locked upon him. 

"Good. They're right on time," the man said, sounding immensely pleased with himself. 

The woman came up behind him, looking very worried. "What have you done?" she asked urgently. 

The man laughed. "It's times like this, Jade, that I wonder if you really support us." There was a hint of threat in his voice. 

The woman – Jade, apparently – looked offended at that. "Have I failed to help you yet, Marion?" she asked disdainfully. 

Anger flashed in the man's eyes. "That's Hunter…or Mr. Hunter… to you," he said dangerously. "Unless you want to get the next space on the stake. I'm sure the Slayer would love some company." 

Buffy felt her heart clench in fear. _I won't go through this again_. 

Distantly, she heard Angel yell, "No!" Glancing at him, she saw him begin to struggle. 

"Restrain him now!" Marion…Mr. Hunter…barked. 

One of the guards released Buffy and she found her weakened muscles weren't as capable of holding her as she thought. She crumpled to the floor, and no one bothered to help her up again. Instead they were to busy restraining Angel, who fought valiantly against them. He had knocked out the single guard that had been holding him and now faced off against another. One of the guards in the midst of the struggle managed to fling Angel into the room's only chair. He sat down hard and suddenly did not move. 

The room fell silent when the fighting stopped. Hunter laughed lightly. "It works like a charm," he said, staring at Angel. Angel was glaring at him angrily, but neither moved nor said a word. "Your magic never ceases to amaze me, Jade." 

Jade, however, looked nowhere near as pleased. "You never told me what you were using the chair for," she said angrily. 

The suited man gave her a pointed look. 

The white haired woman continued unfazed. "You are a fool, _Mr. Hunter,_" she said, and his name took on a mocking tone. "I warned you before of the consequences of killing this Warrior." 

"And we won't," he replied calmly. "No, he's going to live a long, healthy, _mortal_ life. The Slayer, however…" 

Angel looked furious, and his struggle to move was evident on his face. 

"Kill the Slayer and another is called," Jade pointed out. 

The man chuckled. "For once I am ahead of you," he said. "This Slayer has already died once. Her replacement is in an L.A. prison awaiting trial for murder. There are those that will make sure that her trial takes a _long_ time, and that she gets put away for life. Kill this Slayer, and we are free to do as we please for, oh, fifty years at least." 

"And you are free to, oh, take over the world," Jade replied, completely deadpan. 

Mr. Hunter smiled. "Of course," he replied. "You have no idea of the kind of status I will gain by being the one to kill this Slayer. That's all that really matters." He looked to his unoccupied guards. "Tie her up!" he ordered, gesturing towards Buffy. 

The two conscious guards hauled her unceremoniously to her feet. They did not even take care to make sure she was standing before they half dragged, half carried her across the huge room. She couldn't feel her feet, but she could feel her back when they shoved her against the pole. They were quite efficient with the ropes, tying her up until she couldn't move regardless of the sedative. 

Finally allowing his flunky to put his robe over his shoulders, Hunter wore a triumphant smile. Shrugging into his sleeves, he looked at Angel. "And you will get a front row seat, my fried," he said mockingly. 

Angel's eyes betrayed everything his tongue could not. It was pure anger, and beneath that a hint of old and new fear. Buffy couldn't interpret everything he was feeling, but she could understand it. Their gazes met, and Angel's eyes begged her to come up with a solution. Buffy, terrified, knew her own gaze gave no answers as they began to pile the wood around her.   


* * *

  
**Part Fourteen**

Frozen in place, Angel watched helplessly as unknown people moved in and out of the room, preparing to burn Buffy alive. They came in with piles of wood, seeming not to notice what they were about to do to a human being. They all seemed to be human, too. At least, that's all Angel could tell from their appearance. 

Mr. Hunter had his attention completely on his workers and on Buffy, so he was ignoring Angel in the process. Not that there was any reason he should have been paying attention to Angel. He could struggle for all he was worth to move or even speak and it wouldn't make any difference. Every couple of seconds he tested his invisible bonds to no avail. 

All this time, the white-haired woman stood on the edge of the room, a look of stern disapproval on her face. With everyone else occupied, she turned, focusing her gaze on Angel. This was the first time he had gotten a good look at her, and he froze in fear. He knew her, and always would; white hair, too young face, and a sense of power. In his mind's eye she wielded a knife. If Angel hadn't been restrained he knew he would have been shaking. 

She walked calmly across the room, drawing no attention as she approached Angel. He could not look away from her. She was very determined in her purpose, but no one other than Angel seemed to even notice her presence in the room. His desire to run from this woman warred with his need to rescue Buffy. As it was, he could do neither, 

The woman crossed the cavernous room unnoticed, finally coming to a stop facing Angel. He followed her the entire way with his eyes. Their gazes met at last, and Angel did not let himself be swayed by the apparent sympathy on her face. After all, the last time he had seen her she had been whispering apologies while…. 

"Shhh," she whispered suddenly, coming very close to inspect Angel's magical bonds. "I'm here to help you." 

_Help me?_ Angel thought bitterly. _Now why do I find that hard to believe?_

"I have no idea," the white-haired woman whispered sarcastically. "But you need my help if you're going to save the Slayer's life." 

If Angel hadn't been bound, he would have jumped in surprise. As it was, his thoughts reflected his shock. _What?! How…?_

"Your thoughts are easy for me to read," she whispered. She smiled up at him briefly from behind the chair. 

_Lovely_, Angel thought to himself, still thick with sarcasm. This was the oddest way to hold a conversation. Now the same people who had been bringing in the wood were beginning to come in with torches, ringing the room. _Now's really not the time for chit-chat,_ Angel thought to his oddly sympathetic captor, letting her feel his rising panic. 

She looked up, taking in the sight of the brightly burning torches, and grimaced. "You're right," she agreed. "Please, stop struggling. Hold still." 

_…what…?_

"I'm going to release your bonds," she explained patiently. "We can't have…_him_…notice that you're free before you get a chance to do what must be done." 

Angel was highly confused. Could this be some sort of trap? First she captured him, tortured him…now she was going to set him free? It made no sense to him. There had to be something else going on here, something that he still did not understand. Still, the chance to save Buffy's life… He'd take any chance, however small. _Alright_. 

Suddenly angel felt his capacity for movement returned. It was all that he could do not to spring out of his chair that instant and rush at Buffy's captors. As it was, he clutched at his seat until his knuckles were turning white. "Why?" he asked in a harsh whisper. 

Jade did not move from where she crouched next to the chair. "No speaking," she said in a hushed tone. "Do not draw attention to us. I will tell you everything you must know, but first there is something you must do." 

Angel knew this was too good to be true. So much for a touch of hope in a bad situation. _Here it comes…_

"Save the Slayer," she finished. 

This time Angel did jump. That was the last thing he had expected her to say. 'Die,' maybe. Certainly not this. "What? I…" 

"Hush!" the woman said quickly, suddenly tensing, her gaze locking on the activity going on in front of them. 

Mr. Hunter was standing between Angel and the stake Buffy was tied to. His hands were raised, and the torchbearers fell into line behind the stake. Silence descended upon the large room. He turned and looked at Angel, a cruel smile on his face. Angel froze in fear of discovery. Fortunately. 

"Only minutes now," Hunter said. "Only minutes and there will be nothing you can do to me any more." 

Angel continued to stare at him in anger touched with fear. 

Mr. Hunter's gaze turned to Jade. "Let him speak," he demanded. 

The woman rolled her eyes and placed herself in between Angel and Hunter. She gave Angel an amused look as she made a complicated, yet unnecessary gesture. Angel had no clue what she was playing at, be he went along with it. She stepped aside and Angel scowled at the older man. 

"Why are you doing this?" Angel snarled. 

"Why?" Hunter mocked. "Do you know what it was like before you came to this town? No matter what we did, as long as the police didn't notice, as long as we had power – demonic or otherwise – behind us, we could do as we pleased. _I_ could do as _I_ pleased." He scowled. "And then you had to come to town. You could have done like so many other demons have. You could have been a power in this town on your own. Instead, you had to upset things. You had to cause trouble." He smiled coldly. "Witness me getting rid of trouble." 

"I don't understand," Angel said slowly. 

"Don't play that with me anymore!" the red robed man demanded angrily. 

Jade spoke quickly. "I told you the ritual would effect his memory," she said. "That was how you wanted it." 

"If he lost his memory," Hunter said, turning his gaze on Jade, "then how come the Slayer is here?" 

"She has done nothing to you!" Angel said angrily, barely restraining himself from leaping out of his chair and throttling this man. 

"In time, she would have," Hunter replied with certainty. 

"Why are you doing this?" Angel demanded in helpless frustration. "You're not a demon. What do you want?" 

The man smirked. "I'm part demon, actually. And what I want is to have you dead. You killed my patron…my mentor." Angel's surprise must have shown on his face, for Hunter went from darkly amused to coldly angry. He leaned a little closer to Angel. "Without him, I have nothing. No status, no power. And since I can't kill you…I will settle for killing the Slayer. If that does not bring my power and standing back, nothing will." 

Angel simply scowled at him. "You're insane." 

"No, I'm afraid for your sake that I am very sane." Hunter stood abruptly. "Enough of this chatter. It's time we saw the Slayer killed and you…we'll figure out what to do with you yet." 

With that he turned his back on Angel and began to gesture to the others in the room. As soon as he'd looked the other way, Jade was whispering to Angel once again. Her hushed voice was filled with renewed urgency. "You have to stop this," she whispered. 

As the men with the torches began to move towards Buffy, Angel nearly sprang out of his chair. Jade clamped a hand on his arm. "Not like that!" she hissed. 

Angel glared at her viciously for a second before turning his gaze back on Buffy. She was starting to come out of her drug induced haze and began to struggle weakly against her ropes. She wasn't getting anywhere with it, and the drugs were obviously not going to wear off in time. "I have to save her," Angel hissed back. "I can't just sit here." 

"Exactly," Jade agreed, "but if you go charging in there you'll only get killed this time for good. They won't hold back from killing you forever. You must save her life, and yours, with _every_ weapon at your disposal." 

"I don't understand you," Angel whispered angrily. He didn't have time for this. 

Jade clutched at his arm, impatience clear on her face. "You are more than you realize," she said sternly. "Already you have seen that with your strength. You have never been simply human and you never will be. You need to learn all that you are before you can best save her!" 

Angel turned and glared at her straight in the eye. It no longer mattered that he had no clue what she was talking about. "I don't have time to learn." 

The white-haired woman started slightly at that. She released his arm and sat back on her heels. "Of course," she whispered, her accent suddenly thicker than before. "Another time perhaps," she added oddly. 

Angel didn't take the time to ponder that statement; not while Buffy was in danger. At that moment the torchbearers closed their circle and as one bent to light the pyre. Nothing could possibly restrain Angel any further. He sprang from the chair and ran towards Buffy. "No!" he yelled without really meaning to speak aloud. 

All attention turned towards him…. 

And the torches went out. 

Hunter saw the cessation of activity and screamed, "Kill her!" 

"But sir…" one of the torchbearers protested weakly. 

Angel ran into the crowd before they could recover from their confusion. Hunter's gaze turned on him again. "You," he said darkly, his face twisted in fury. "I gave you a chance to live, which is more than you gave my…friend," he said. Then he turned to his torchbearers once again. "Kill them both," he demanded. 

One of the torchbearers moved first, raising his now doused torch like a club. He swung it wildly at Angel's head. Angel caught it in mid swing and with his other hand punched the man in the jaw. He went down, but Angel did not have time to savor his victory. That seemed to be the cue for everyone else to attack. Angel immediately had two more thugs to deal with. 

Angel was quickly being overwhelmed. At some point in the fighting the torches had miraculously relit themselves, and Angel found himself ducking flames as well as fists. He faintly noticed in the midst of fighting that Jade was there as well, using magic instead of force to knock out some of the men. On top of that, Angel could hear Hunter screaming orders no one was really paying attention to. It was a jarring haze of kill or be killed. 

Buffy was fighting more earnestly against her bonds, but her Slayer strength had not yet returned. Her movement drew Angel's attention, his distraction allowing one man to land a lucky blow that made his vision swim. Her movement also drew the attention of one of the torchbearers, who suddenly remembered his standing order: kill them both. 

Momentarily knocked down by his assailant, Angel watched in horror as the man lowered his torch to the pyre Buffy was standing upon. For a brief moment his eyes met hers from across the room. Then the edge of the pile of wood caught and Angel heard a wordless scream. He wasn't sure if it was his, Buffy's, or both, but he was moving again, praying that he could save her. 

Sweeping the legs out from under one man even as he sprang to his feet, Angel was a blur of violent motion. He barely even felt the blows that landed upon him, only seeing the growing flames that Buffy was nearly standing upon. He fought furiously, and the men fell before him without Angel even seeing whom he fought. 

Finally the fighting was behind him and Angel and Buffy were face to face once again, staring across the flames, fear and trust and love in their eyes. The flames were growing quickly, and the heat was nearly unbearable from where Angel was standing, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter how badly Angel got burned; he had to save Buffy. 

He braced himself and strode into the flames. 

An arm over his face to protect his eyes and lungs from the heat and smoke, it took a second for Angel to realize that the flames were not burning him. The heat was incredible, but right where Angel stood the flames muted and died. He didn't take the time to wonder at his luck, but scrambled over the wood to Buffy's side. 

Coughing in the smoke, Angel hurried to untie Buffy's ropes. Suddenly free, her legs did not immediately support her and she began to fall. Angel caught her quickly, scooping her up into his arms. As he had been untying her, the flames had risen high once again, surrounding both of them. Angel's eyes watered and he gasped for air. They couldn't stay here long. Closing his eyes, Angel clasped Buffy to his chest and leapt. 

Landing just beyond the burning pile, Angel released Buffy and then rolled to put out the bit of flame that was inching up his coat. Scrambling to his feet, he helped Buffy to hers and looked her over for burns or smoldering clothing. She said nothing, but smiled at him reassuringly. Once he was sure she was standing on her own, Angel took a deep breath and braced himself to return to the fight. 

The last couple of thugs were already exhausted, fortunately, and fell quickly to Angel's swift attack. Soon all that were left were Buffy, Angel, Jade…and Hunter. 

The older man was furious. Jade stood in front of him, her hands stretched towards him, palms forward. She was silent even as Hunter screamed at her. Angel supported Buffy against him and stood to join her. 

"You betrayed me!" he was yelling as they approached. "All the time that you worked for me…" 

"I never worked for you, Marion," Jade said calmly. 

Hunter went suddenly speechless at that. 

"I believe she has you there," Angel said calmly. He would ponder Jade's role in all of this later. Not that he wasn't curious… 

"How?" Hunter yelled at her. "You said he'd be powerless, remember nothing!" He turned to look wildly at Angel. "What are you?" he gasped. 

As soon as the question was uttered, Angel began to wonder the exact same thing. He glanced at Jade; if her words from earlier were any indication, she would have the answers. 

"There are some forces that can't be stopped," was Jade's haughty response. She was clearly enjoying Hunter's fear and confusion. 

Hunter looked back and forth between the three of the wildly. With his flunkies unconscious or fled, he seemed smaller somehow. He must have felt it, too, for he was acting…well, pathetic. "What are you going to do with me?" he asked. 

For a moment none of them said anything. Both Jade and Buffy looked at Angel expectantly. "What do you think?" Buffy whispered. 

Jade looked at him as well. "It's your life he's tried to destroy," she said. "You decide his fate now." 

Angel stared at Hunter, surprisingly calm. He looked into Hunter's terrified eyes. Then he did the only thing he could. "Let him go," he said. 

Jade and Buffy looked at him in shock, but not as much shock as Hunter was in. Before that shock could fade, Angel's calm façade broke. He grabbed Hunter by the older man's collar and let his anger at the past months' confusion at this man's behest show on his face. "I don't kill humans," he snarled, "or you wouldn't be so lucky. And none of us want the attention of the police. It would be fitting if I could dump you injured and wiped of memory like you did to me, but I can't. But know this," he pulled Hunter threateningly close, "you failed. That status you worked so hard for is gone. No one will ever work for you again. 

"And this is _my_ town. If I hear you're trying anything again, and I mean _anything_," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "I may just mistake you for one of the monsters." 

Angel released Hunter so suddenly that the man stumbled back several steps. As the fires continued to burn behind them, Angel scooped Buffy into his arms. He nodded briefly to the white-haired woman, who smiled mysteriously at him in response. 

"Let's go," Angel said, and led them away from the fires and the fear.   


* * *

  
**Part Fifteen**

Buffy felt her strength returning quickly now that the battle was over. She was reluctant to leave Angel's arms, but she had seen him fighting before. He had to be exhausted, but he said nothing as he carried her down the nighttime street. Both he and the strange woman who had left with them seemed very focused on their thoughts and neither said a word. It was Buffy who had to break the silence. 

"Angel," she whispered in his ear. 

He looked at her, his eyes dark with thoughts she couldn't decipher. "Hmm?" 

"I think I can walk now," Buffy said softly. 

Angel looked at her closely before lowering her to her feet with a slow sigh. Holding her close, he waited until he was sure she was standing before releasing her. Buffy pulled away and took a couple of experimental steps on her own. Her legs were shaky, but they supported her weight. Angel held out his hands, ready to catch her. 

"Are you all right?" he asked in concern. 

Buffy nodded. "I will be," she said, then stumbled and nearly fell again. Angel caught her instantly, supporting her on her feet. His warm, strong arms held her gently, taking enough of her weight that she at least felt like she was walking on her own but was no longer worried that she'd fall on her face. It was a tender, silent sort of understanding that was so typical of Angel before everything had gone wrong that it brought tears to her eyes. 

"What's wrong?" Angel asked softly. "Are you hurt?" 

Buffy shook her head. "I'm alright." If she'd been able to stand on her own, she would have pulled away. "It's just…you save my life again…. You've been so kind…. I just want to thank you, but I don't deserve everything you've done for me." 

"Yes, you do deserve it," Angel said earnestly. He steadied her and helped her walk a couple of steps. "You deserve more than I could ever hope to give." 

Buffy felt a tear make its way down her cheek. "Angel…" she whispered pathetically. 

Jade noticed the two of them were no longer walking with her and turned. She took one look at Buffy's distraught expression and walked back to join them. "Do not fret, Guardian," she said calmly. 

Even through her tears and exhaustions, Buffy blinked at the white-haired woman. She didn't trust her by a long shot, but without her they'd both be dead, so…. "What did you call me?" 

Looking at her oddly, Jade shrugged. She always seemed to know more than she was saying. "It does not matter," she said. "But there is no need for tears, either. He remembers." 

Buffy's breath caught in her throat. "Angel?" she gasped. 

He looked down at her with a small, sad smile. "It's all right now," he whispered. 

"It's not all right!" Buffy cried, knowing exactly what pain lurked behind her eyes now. "If it wasn't for me…" 

"I would still be existing instead of living," Angel finished for her. "It wasn't your fault, Buffy. What happened to me…it wasn't your fault." 

"Angel…" 

"Shh," he replied, turning his supportive embrace into a hug. "I can't explain it, but I don't think anything you did or didn't do that day at the police station could have changed what happened." 

Before Buffy could object again, Jade spoke quickly. "You are right," she said to Angel. "It was meant for you to die that day, in that way." 

Buffy had enough. "What are you?" she demanded in exasperation. 

Jade looked at Buffy so calmly it was infuriating. "My name is Jadwiga," she said. 

"I didn't ask your name, I asked what you are," Buffy pointed out. "You're not human," she said with certainty. 

"I'm as human as either of you," Jade retorted. 

That statement was met with silence. Angel looked at the young-old woman seriously. "That's not saying much, is it?" he asked softly. 

Jade gave him a half smile. "No, that's not saying much." 

"Hey!" Buffy exclaimed. "I'm human!" 

"You're the Slayer," the mysterious woman replied as if that explained everything. 

"Angel's human," Buffy continued. 

Jade regarded him seriously, then looked back at Buffy. "I believe you're beginning to have doubts on that now, too." 

Angel broke his silence at last. "I don't understand," he said yet again to her. 

Jade looked at Angel then, ignoring Buffy's questioning gaze. "I saw you fighting; you've discovered your full strength again. I said it before, but you were not exactly listening to me," she said, sounding highly annoyed with him. "You've never been exactly human. If you had not become a vampire, you would have discovered that. You are finally back on the track you were meant to be on. Always, a warrior with a destiny." 

"But what…" Buffy faltered. 

"Phoenix," Angel said suddenly. Both of the women looked at him in surprise. "I heard you say that once," he said to Jade. "When you…" he couldn't finish the statement. 

Buffy was officially completely lost. "What does that mean? And what the hell are you?" she demanded of Jade. 

"I work for the Powers That Be." 

"Oh, that explains everything," Buffy said sarcastically. "Like what you were doing working for someone that wanted to _burn_ me at the _stake_." 

"It was the only way I could do what had to be done," Jade said, though she did not seem as confident as before. 

Angel had taken much of the evening's – or, for that matter, the months' – confusion in stride, but now it finally seemed to be getting to him. There was an odd, pained expression on his face and he held the arm that wasn't supporting Buffy close across his chest. Buffy suddenly remembered the mostly healed scar from the time he was missing and knew that Jade had a *lot* to answer for. "Explain yourself," Angel hissed. 

Jade sighed. "The Phoenix is a warrior spirit, reborn every 500 years. That spirit exists within you. When you became a vampire, it disrupted the Phoenix's cycle of rebirth. When you were captured and forced to meet the sunlight, that was my chance to set things right again. Death by fire, and the Phoenix lives again for another 500 years." 

Silence met her explanation once again. Buffy looked at her in shock, then looked at Angel. He seemed to be faring little better. After a stunned moment, he shook his head tiredly. "This is too much for one day," he said slowly. "I'm exhausted; I assume you can explain everything I need to know…later." 

"I will be nearby when you are ready," Jade said. She stepped back from the two of them. As Angel supported Buffy for a couple more awkward steps, Jade turned to leave them behind. Just short of disappearing into the night, she turned to face them once again. This time her eyes locked with Buffy's. "Do not worry, Guardian," she said strongly. "If your love is meant to be, it will be, no matter what may come between you." With that, she disappeared into the night. 

Angel and Buffy stood silently after she had gone. They had a ways to go before they could rest and they were both exhausted and overwhelmed. "Come on," Angel said softly, shifting his grip on Buffy. He supported her carefully as they continued on their way down the street. 

"Angel," Buffy whispered. "About what happened… About what she said…" 

He stopped and looked at Buffy gently. "I love you," he said simply. 

"But…" Buffy protested. 

"Buffy," Angel said gently, "I told you I could never hate you. Even when I didn't _know_, I knew. I love you, always." The last word was a whisper, and it brought tears to Buffy's eyes. "Now let's get off these streets," he said at last.   


* * *

  
"No, Mr. Summers, I haven't heard from Buffy," Cordelia said wearily, looking at the clock next to the phone. It read one a.m. "No, I don't know where she is." What in the world was he doing calling at one a.m.? Oh yeah, the same thing she was doing answering the _phone_ in the _office_ at one a.m. "She went out to dinner with Angel…. No, he's not back yet, either…. Mr. Summers, I already checked. I promise I'll call you as soon as either of them show up…. Yeah, bye." 

Cordelia hung up the phone slowly. Finally she let the frustration she'd hid on the phone out to play. "Where the hell are they?" she yelled. 

Wesley rubbed his eyes and looked at her wearily. "You don't know. I don't know. No one knows. Remember?" 

Cordelia sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just worried about Angel, you know? I don't want to loose him for good this time." She paused and then looked at Wesley in wide-eyed panic. "Oh god, Wes! What if they ran into cop lady and she decided to kill him for good this time? Or, I mean, Angel doesn't remember anything. What if they ran into a demon and…?" 

Wesley looked at her wearily. "Why not throw in Wolfram and Hart while you're at it?" he muttered. 

"Oh no, what if they ran into one of those lawyers from Wolfram and Hart?" 

Wesley felt an urge to hit his head on the desk a couple of times. It was far too late at night for this. No, wait, make that too early in the morning. He thought the bizarre early mornings with no sleep had stopped when Angel had stopped being a vampire. So much for that theory. 

"Listen," Wesley said wearily. "Buffy's the Slayer. I'm sure she can take care of anything they might 'run into.'" 

"But Wesley," Cordelia protested, "weren't you the one who insisted that Angel stay out of sight in case something happened….just like this!" 

"Yes, but…" Wesley started. 

The front door opened noisily, interrupting him. Both Wesley and Cordelia were on their feet instantaneously to see the missing pair come in. Buffy and Angel were clearly exhausted, leaning on each other. They were disheveled, bruised, and stained with soot…and grinning from ear to ear. Neither Wesley nor Cordelia could find the words to say anything at their entrance. 

Stepping just inside the office doorway, Buffy and Angel met Cordelia and Wesley's surprised and concerned gazes. "You didn't have to wait up," Angel said, sounding amused. 

Cordelia had enough. "Where the _hell_ have you two been? What happened to you?" 

"It's so nice that you're concerned," Buffy said a touch sarcastically. 

"Well, pardon me," Wesley said, "but the two of you do look rather…awful." 

"Yeah, well, we're both alive so you might call in an improvement," Angel said. 

Buffy caught Cordelia and Wesley's surprised looks, so she said quickly, "We were captured, I was almost burned at the stake, Angel saved me, we defeated the bad guys. Oh, and Angel has his memories back. Now, if you don't mind, I've been drugged, Angel's exhausted, and we both just want to sleep." With that, she and Angel walked…or staggered, actually…towards the elevator. 

"Angel!" Cordelia said in exasperation. 

As he closed the elevator, Angel gave Cordelia a tired smile. "Tomorrow," he said briefly as the elevator began to descend. 

Cordelia just stood there staring at the elevator shaft well after Angel and Buffy had disappeared. "So that's it?" she demanded finally. "Buffy's going to spend the night…morning? Like a lot of sleeping is going to get done down there…" 

Wesley sighed. "They bother look exhausted," he said. 

"Oh, totally," Cordelia agreed. 

"I'm sure what you're suggesting is absolutely ridiculous." 

"Sure it is," she replied with only a trace of sarcasm. 

"Come on," Wesley said at last, picking up his jacket and heading for the door. "Why don't _we_ at least get some sleep…this morning." 

Cordelia followed him a second later. "Do you think we'll ever find out exactly what happened tonight?" 

"There's always tomorrow," Wesley said. 

"Yeah," Cordelia agreed, though she didn't sound so sure. "Tomorrow."   


* * *

  
**The End!**

_Note: Yes, I know I left a number of things hanging. And that explanation at the end wasn't very clear or complete. But that's because I do have ideas for up to 3 more stories taking place after this. Please, let me know if you want them! (I hope you do, because *I* want to write the fourth one! Believe me, it's a cool idea…but it needs the other 2 before it.) Feedback begged for as always!_

   [1]: mailto:cynamin@hotmail.com



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